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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29661564">As Good As Gold</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissVoltara/pseuds/MissVoltara'>MissVoltara</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Journal d'un curé de campagne | The Diary of a Country Priest - Georges Bernanos</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aged-Up Character(s), Blasphemy, Catholic Guilt, Chronic Illness, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Delusions, Disturbing Themes, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Forced Ejaculation, Forced Orgasm, Hierophillia, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Mental Instability, Non-Consensual Touching, Not Canon Compliant, Obsessive Behavior, Older Man/Younger Woman, One-Sided Attraction, Post WW1 France, Priests, Roman Catholicism, Sexual Harassment, Stalking, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Unhealthy Relationships, Unrequited Crush, creepy behaviour</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:14:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>26,503</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29661564</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissVoltara/pseuds/MissVoltara</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Seraphita has an unhealthy obsession with her parish priest. Believing that he's an angel sent from Heaven, Seraphita quickly becomes determined to make him hers.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Curé de Ambricourt/Seraphita Dulmouchel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Angel of Ambricourt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Seraphita in the original source material is a minor but for the sake of this work I aged her up to a young adult so she and the priest of Ambricourt are around the same age as each other. Seraphita is also not a major character in the book but the plot of this fanfic will still include elements and plot points from it regardless.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><hr/><p>Seraphita sat on a bench outside of the church's office, pretending to be occupied with the lose threads on the buttons of her coat while the priest whisked her mother away. He had wanted to speak to Mme. Dulmouchel urgently, no doubt it was about her, Seraphita was certain. When her mother and the priest vanished from sight, she stood and waited just outside the door, hoping to hear something of importance.</p><p>The door was slightly ajar but she still couldn't quite make out what was being said. They both sounded quite agitated as they fiercely whispered back and forth. Mme. Dulmouchel suddenly exploded into a fit of anger.</p><p>"My girl is every bit as good as the others. All she asks is to be treated right--see!"</p><p>Seraphita had to give the priest credit, he did not raise his voice but calmly mumbled a reply.</p><p>"Manners--what d'you mean?" Her mother snapped.</p><p>The priest's words could finally be heard clearly as he raised his voice in irritation. "She's rather inclined to be coquettish."</p><p>"What d'you mean--coquettish?" Her mother shouted. "Anyway, what business is it of yours? You've no business--you a priest and all! Coquettish! Excuse me, M. le Curé, but I think you're a lot too young to be talkin' o' such things an' with such a young woman at that!"</p><p>Her mother's footsteps could be heard swiftly approaching the door and Seraphita scrambled to sit back down with her hands in her lap, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.</p><p>Mme. Dulmouchel's red face was twisted into an ugly scowl as she stormed out of the priest's office. She exhaled before she spoke to her daughter. "Come along Seraphita."</p><p>Her mother didn't wait for a response as she briskly walked away. Seraphita quickly stood and scurried after her, trying her hardest not to smile and giggle with glee. Of course her mother had defended her against M. le Curé, she always did. The priest was already disliked in town and so his criticisms and judgements of people's character were seldom well received. Seraphita realized that she could use this to her advantage. </p><p>The priest had emerged from his office and watched the two women walk down the aisle. Seraphita looked over her shoulder and gave the priest an innocent smile before leaving the church.</p><p>Seraphita had been drawn to the young priest since he had first arrived to Ambricourt and she saw those mournful, dark eyes of his. She had always been intrigued by priests. They were aloof and unobtainable conduits of God, His obsidian-clad anointed servants on earth. They were holy avatars for the love of God and Seraphita wanted to snatch the young cleric within her grasp and keep him to herself. She wanted to know if she could reach her Creator through him.</p><p>The previous clergyman of Ambricourt had retired and Seraphita had always remembered him as being an old man. He had been far too old for her, as were many priests in the neighbouring towns and villages, and she was still too young to pursue any of them. But this new priest was young, sensitive and inexperienced, the subject of gossip and derision in Ambricourt. His innocence surely had to be some sign of his holiness, that he was truly of God. He was an outcast because he was too perfect, too pious for the townspeople to understand him. They couldn't withstand being in the presence of an angel and so, like mindless beasts, they resorted to attacking him to keep him at bay. Did they not realize what sin they were committing by harming one of God's messengers?</p><p>He had to be some kind of angel and Seraphita was determined to ensnare the celestial man.</p><p>Her mother continued to rant and rave about the audacity of the priest to criticize Seraphita so harshly. Seraphita suppressed a smile. </p><p>So the angel had noticed her and was thinking of her! She had been following him, observing him, finding every opportunity she could to get close to her angel without arousing suspicion from her family and the townsfolk. Her family was still woefully oblivious, thinking that her trips to church were signs of her religiosity but the priest, the angel, had noticed her. Perhaps, being an angel and therefore wise, he knew what her motives were. She hardly took offense to the fact that the priest thought her coquettish and that her manners needed work. Surely he was saying these things because he recognized that she was a wretched sinner in need of saving. Surely he wanted to help her. Surely he had noticed her admiration and now she had to prove her devotion to him.</p><p>She could not give voice to these thoughts however. Instead, she shrugged and tried to calm her mother down. She only half-listened to her mother's ranting, nodding and making noncommittal noises when appropriate. Mme. Dulmouchel's ire finally cooled and she shook her head dismissively.</p><p>"That priest," She muttered. "Don't you let 'im insult you Seraphita. He's young and hardly knows what he's talkin' about."</p><p>The women walked home briskly and soon were making their way down the road to their cottage. Seraphita would often prowl along that same stretch of road and around town, hoping to see the allusive M. le Curé either on his bicycle or walking on foot to wherever people in the parish needed him. </p><p>One afternoon they had caught each other's eye. Paralyzed by the thrill of actually encountering the priest outside of church, she stood still and watched him as he approached. She was transfixed by his gentleness of manner as he nervously approached her, speaking sweetly to her though she couldn't recall what he had said. She could not tolerate looking into the eyes of someone so pure and innocent and so she stared at the ground, watching his shadow draw closer.  Before he could get close enough, she threw her satchel in the nearby ditch and ran off back home. The priest had an altar boy return the satchel later that day and Seraphita ran her hand over the leather surface, imagining the priest's frail hands had been there. She was disappointed that he hadn't returned it himself but he was probably busy otherwise he would have.</p><p>For the remainder of the day, Seraphita quietly helped her mother and her siblings with their chores and stayed out of her father's sight, lest she accidentally incur his wrath. She was a young, unmarried woman who was deeply infatuated with their parish priest; if her father ever caught wind of her sinful thoughts and behaviour he'd never let her leave the house alone. She had to be careful if she wanted to get closer to the angelic priest.</p><p>That night, Seraphita laid on her back in the darkness of her room, thinking of how the priest had looked during the High Mass that morning. Her breath quickened as she remembered the green and gold of his chasuble, the lace details on the skirt and sleeves of his alb, the soft cadence of his voice as he spoke in Latin over the Body and Blood of Christ. She had knelt at the communion rail, her mind straying into forbidden territory as he stood in front of her and placed the consecrated host on her tongue. She returned to her pew and knelt in prayer, asking God to forgive her for thinking such devious things about one of His servants right after she had received communion. </p><p>Seraphita hardly remembered his homilies and sermons, it was the usual tripe she had heard from dozens of priests before him, but she remembered how smooth and assured his voice always was. He may be a friendless, reserved man but the priest most certainly believed in what he said, believed and had faith in his God.</p><p>She didn't know her angel's real name, he never told her nor did anyone in her acquaintance know the priest well enough to learn his name. M. le Curé or Curé de Ambricourt were the appropriate ways of addressing him and inquiring into his given name was invasive and against social decorum. She longed to know what his real name was but she would have to earn his trust and affection first.</p><p>It wasn't enough to just watch from a distance anymore. She had to get closer to the priest. She had to prove that she could be a well mannered, modest, Catholic woman if she tried. Perhaps he would begin to soften his heart then. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. He Absorbs the Wickedness of the World</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><hr/><p>By next Sunday, the old coons of Ambricourt were gossiping again; the priest had visited the Chateau to speak with Mme. la Comtesse and had to return early to his presbytery due to sudden illness. The poor creature wasn't seen or heard from for the rest of the day.</p><p>"Really, you should have seen him," Mme. la Comtesse said as she walked into church. "He was as pale as a bedsheet and looked like he was ready to collapse."</p><p>A few well-to-do ladies murmured among themselves in admonishment.</p><p>"I walked him out of the house and offered to escort him home but he insisted that he would be fine on his own so I let him go," Mme. la Comtesse shook her head in disapproval. "I'm telling you the fool doesn't take care of himself. He claimed it was just indigestion but I don't agree."</p><p>The priest had to be one of the most delicate and sickly men Seraphita had ever met. Angels are not meant to inhabit earth, they're too pure to survive prolonged exposure to the sin and brokenness of Mankind. The priest had a lot of wickedness to absorb from the people around him and none were worse than the pitiful inhabitants of the Chateau. Mme. la Comtesse was a bitter, hardened woman, M. le Comte was indifferent and Mlle. Chantal was a demon in human skin. </p><p>Seraphita couldn't stand Mlle. Chantal and often found herself making the sign of the cross and instinctively reaching for her Rosary whenever the other young woman happened to be around. Her temper and defiant nature were well known and the young priest had already had a taste of her wrath. Seraphita detested the idea of that she-devil going anywhere near her beloved angel and wondered if she ought to do something about Mlle. Chantal.</p><p>She could protect the priest from Chantal and her parents if she needed to. She couldn't allow them to taint the priest. She could keep the demons of Ambricourt away from him and then the priest would realize that she was his only friend in their God-forsaken town, that she meant him no harm. Perhaps she should give the other woman a stern talking to.</p><p>It was wildly ironic and sinful for the people of Ambricourt to gossip among themselves right before the High Mass began but the priest was hearing confessions after so perhaps it wasn't that much of a concern. Even so, she caught Mlle. Louise, an especially devout woman, frowning at what she was hearing. She made no move to stop them though.</p><p>Seraphita tried her best to listen to the priest's sermon, he had an eloquent way of speaking, of that there could be no doubt. She imagined that it must be difficult to preach and cater to a community of people who pushed him out into the fringes of their society. He would persevere and remain where he was, uncomplaining of his woes and uncompromising in his principles. It was admirable in Seraphita's eyes. What a faithful servant God had in His angel!</p><p>After Mass, there was a line of penitants waiting for their turn in the confessional so Seraphita went and joined them. Some quietly talked to each other as they waited while others remained silent, thinking over what they were going to tell the priest. Mlle. Louise was there with Seraphita but neither woman felt like talking.</p><p>When it was her turn, she went into the empty side of the confessional and knelt on the cushion there with her head bowed. She wished she could reach out and touch him but the grate between them blocked her. She could feel his eyes on her though she didn't dare look up, she would lose her nerve if she did.</p><p>"Bless me Father for I have sinned, it has been three weeks since my last confession."</p><p>Seraphita very well couldn't tell him her thoughts about him so she rattled off other sins. Holding back on a sin was a mortal sin in of itself but she would have to tell another priest the full truth another time and plead forgiveness from God directly in the meantime. God knew and understood her motives.</p><p>"For all these sins and all of my sins, I am truly sorry."</p><p>The priest gave her penance and dismissed her. "Go in peace."</p><p>Seraphita quickly got up on unsteady legs and went to an unoccupied pew to pray. She had to pray and prove herself to her angel and God, she had to work hard to become the good Catholic that she was called to be. The priest had made her lose her head and so she had foolishly blown her chance of making a good first impression on him. She would have to rectify that. She had to gain his trust and she must begin with becoming as saintly and pure as the priest was.</p><p>What awful sins did the priest have to hear? How much sin did he have to absorb on a daily basis? How could he withstand it? She would never know precisely since most priests would rather die than break the seal of confession. She couldn't imagine her parish priest ever breaking any of his vows as he was far too good for that. He had to be.</p><p>Seraphita knelt in prayer, playing with the beads of her Rosary until her knees became sore. She finally stood up and noticed that most of the laity who had stayed behind for confession had left. She considered loitering around just so she could see the priest but decided against it. She had to be patient and continue keeping her distance for now. She longed to touch her angel's thin face and kiss his anointed hands but she would risk spooking him even further if she tried to rush her plan along.</p><p>With no other reason to keep her in church, Seraphita left the Gothic building and walked home. Perhaps she should do something nice for Monsieur le Curé; perhaps bring him some medicine for his stomach troubles, make him something that she can leave on his doorstep, or pick some flowers and herbs from her mother's garden. Would he even accept such kindness? He might suspect that someone was trying to play a trick on him but Seraphita saw no harm in trying. He wouldn't even have to know that she was the one responsible.</p><p>She smiled to herself and couldn't help but giggle. She would win the priest over, it would just take time.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. His Pain is For Our Souls</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><hr/><p>After his nighttime prayers, the priest sat at his desk with his diary open, his mind trying to make sense of Mlle. Seraphita's disposition towards him. She acted cheerful and social with her friends and family but would play tricks on him, following him, always watching his every move. It was maddening. Did she hate him? She was old enough not to behave so childishly and wouldn't dare act so uncouth in front of her peers so why was he the exception? </p><p>He knew the Devil was crafty and prowled about, seeking the ruination of souls. Was Mlle. Seraphita an instrument of the Devil? Was she under his influence? It seemed likely. Mlle. Chantal and her family had certainly come under Satanic forces by turning away from God as well as many other people in the parish, Mlle. Seraphita would not be a unique case. What if God had sent the mademoiselle to teach him a lesson in compassion? What kind of shepherd would he be if he allowed one of the flock to stray and remain unattended? If Satan was goading Mlle. Seraphita into her current state than he should try and gently steer her back to the right path.</p><p>The priest shuddered as he remembered his failed attempt to speak to Mme. Dulmouchel about her daughter's behaviour. The little minx had been listening in to their conversation and had faked an innocent smile at him as she left the church with her mother. Mlle. Seraphita was a crafty, unpredictable and fierce young woman. Most of the time she stared at him a lot with that bold, unflinching stare of hers, hanging onto his every word or so it seemed. Other times she became overcome with shyness and wouldn't meet his gaze. It was baffling.</p><p>Both Mlle. Seraphita and Mlle. Louise attended the weekday Low Mass at the church but Mlle. Lousie was more consistent. The former lived further away from the church and had her younger siblings to look after so the priest could understand not showing up to church, especially if it wasn't on a Sunday or some other holy day of obligation.</p><p>Were it not for Mlle. Louise and occasionally Mlle. Seraphita, the church would be vacant. The priest was accustomed to spending plenty of time alone and having no close friends to confide in, although he would admit the loneliness had gotten to him before. He would feel the soul-crushing depression that his social isolation would bring and allow himself to weep for only a little while before he would try to regain his calm. "Suffer on behalf of others" was what he told himself but in the quiet and solitude of his room, those words often failed to bring him any comfort. His life as priest would be one of sacrifice, this he knew well but sometimes he longed for a reprieve from his mainly joyless existence.</p><p>He had caught Mlle. Louise with her head in her hands, softly crying or otherwise looking sombre during Mass and considered how he could approach her, if she would allow it. She would always leave before he had the chance to formulate any words of comfort to say and his heart ached for her. The priest didn't know if he would ever find the words that Mlle. Louise likely needed to hear from him or if he could make her understand that they had something in common.</p><p>The priest wanted to ask his colleague, M. le Curé de Torcy for advice but feared that the older man would reprimand him for being too sentimental, far too naive and he'd probably be right. Curé de Torcy was much older than him, had more experience than him, had dealt with his fair share of sin and temptation in himself and the wretched souls around him. If he thought his younger counterpart a fool and too naive for his own good then he wasn't alone in his assessment. The priest's older colleagues like Curé de Verchin and Curé de Norenfontes treated him with much better regard but he still couldn't find the easy fraternal companionship that they had with each other.</p><p>Ambricourt was his first parish and it was proving to be quite difficult. He tried not to despair over his troubles with his parish no matter how ungrateful and insensitive its people were. He could fill his diary to the brim within a matter of a week if he bothered to try and detail how every man, woman, and child at his church made him want to tear his hair out. He was far too sensitive to deal with the petty drama of his parishioners, how did Curé de Torcy deal with it all? Maybe that's why the Welshman had such a harsh exterior. But then Curé de Norenfontes was so kind, thoughtful and freethinking and Curé de Verchin tactless and a bit of a joker. So how do they deal with the sin of Man? What was going on in Ambricourt to make him fail so badly? Was he destined to be a mediocre priest?</p><p>Mlle. Seraphita's had only managed to add more confusion to the young cleric's thoughts. She was being especially troublesome a few scant hours before. She had come by to fetch her younger sister and brother from catechism class and left the priest reeling in humiliation and embarrassment by the time she left.</p><p>The priest had come out of the classroom after dismissing the children for the day, only to be met with the sight of Mlle. Seraphita shamelessly lifting her skirt to adjust her stockings, unaware that the priest was right there. The priest had caught a glimpse of the smooth top of her thighs and quickly turned away in embarrassment. It had to be an accident, there was no way she had deliberately exposed herself like that. He didn't want to consider the alternative. </p><p>The priest smiled and did his best to be cordial, remembering that he should act and speak with compassion. Flustered beyond words, he foolishly confronted her about her tendency to stare at him. She skirted around the question, clearly intent on quickly leaving the church with her siblings now that the priest had called her out on her little game. </p><p>"But you understand me, though. You listen so well." The priest said.</p><p>Mlle. Seraphita tilted her head at him and smiled sweetly. "It's 'cause you got such lovely eyes, M. le Curé."</p><p>The young woman, her siblings and several other children from the catechism class broke out into a fit of giggles at the priest's mortified expression. At a loss for words, he remained frozen on the spot and wished desperately that God would whisk him away, anywhere but where he had stood. She must have said what she had in order to get the priest to back off but why go so far as to humiliate him?</p><p>He was spared from having to say anything as Mlle. Seraphita smiled again, wished him a good day and left with her siblings clinging onto either of her hands. </p><p>The priest closed his diary with a huff at the memory. He still wanted to act with compassion and gentleness towards Mlle. Seraphita but she certainly had a way of testing his patience and making him recoil into himself.</p><p>"Suffer on behalf of others." He whispered to himself. </p><p>With that thought in mind, the priest turned the lamp on his desk out and burrowed under the covers of his bed. He quickly fell asleep but his dreams were haunted by Mlle. Seraphita and Mlle. Louise.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm rereading The Diary of a Country Priest to help me with this fanfic and now that I'm remembering how strange Seraphita actually behaved towards the protagonist in the book, her being a child makes reading the scenes with her %110 weirder and slightly more uncomfortable to read.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Frail, Pathetic Little Creature</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
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</p><hr/><p>Mlle. Seraphita had picked strawberries from the garden and spent the morning making strawberry jam with her mother, making a mental note to sneak out a jar or two for her angel. Her family's neighbours always praised her and her mother for their jams so Seraphita hoped M. le Curé would like it.</p><p>Her brother and sister attended weekly catechism classes at the church and it was left to Seraphita to retrieve them. It thrilled her that she had been granted more opportunities to see him and she couldn't help but tease her angel when she saw him. He really did have lovely eyes and his face and the tips of his ears turned an endearing shade of red when she had told him so. Unfortunately, her compliment was a complete blunder on her part since it only ended up humiliating the poor man.</p><p>She had not gone to church that morning, work at home kept her away, but she imagined that Mlle. Louise had and nearly became overwhelmed with a jealous rage. Word had it that Mlle. Louise had planned to take her vows as a Poor Clare but ended up remaining with her family to look after an invalid mother. She was a frail, pathetic creature who the priest often sought out to talk to.  She was well-educated woman with connections, something that Seraphita was not, and this enraged her even more. </p><p>What the priest saw in Mlle. Louise, Seraphita didn't understand. Having a good education and social connections didn't always make a person good or desirable. Seraphita would have to make him see that Mlle. Louise was not worth his time, no matter how good her breeding and education were.</p><p>He was a gentleman to all the ladies in town, even to someone as undeserving as Mlle. Chantal who sneered at his politeness. This drove Seraphita mad, she was torn between being angry with him for bothering with other women but had to admit that she found his good manners attractive. He was from peasant stock but clearly his years in seminary eradicated the rough mannerisms and colourful vocabulary from him.</p><p>Most priests she had known, while polite, were always so stiff and formal with women as if they were afraid that getting too familiar with the opposite sex would somehow tempt them away from their vows. It was Eve who caused the Fall and it was Eve's fault that humanity was cursed with original sin after all. Perhaps her angel was just braver than those other priests.</p><p>Her mother wanted to use the remainder of the strawberries she had picked for baking and with a few hours to herself, Seraphita went out to Malicorne Hill to see her old childhood friends, Isabelle and Noemie. When they were children they used to play in the sandpits or climb the surrounding trees but now they went there to sit and simply gossip and catch up with one another. </p><p>Her mother had shoved two jars of jam along with some sandwiches for her and her friends into her bag before waving her out the door. The jars gently clinked against each other with each step she took. She smiled and tilted her head back to enjoy the warmth and light of the sun. She wondered where the priest was on a such a beautiful day. Did he ever come to Malicorne Hill when he had the time?</p><p>She followed a dirt path off of the main road which led to the summit of Malicorne Hill. The park was quiet and vacant save for a set of parents who were pushing their children on the old swing sets. They creaked softly as their tiny passengers swung to and fro. She uttered a polite greeting to the family as she walked past and easily spotted her friends in the distance. They had set out a blanket and were sitting on it under a large oak tree. Seraphita didn't mind sitting on the grass but her friends were always concerned with getting their skirts filthy.</p><p>Her friends called out to her when they saw her and she quickened her pace so she could reach them faster. She flopped down on an empty space on the blanket and began unpacking her bag. Isabelle and Noemie gleefully accepted the food and the jam she had brought.</p><p>Isabelle wasted no time in launching into a story about how she got engaged to her fiancée, M. Léopold Gaudin, only a few days ago. M. Gaudin was a blacksmith like his father before him and had made Isabelle a set of love spoons to give to her when he proposed to her. Isabelle and M. Gaudin's family had gotten together for supper when Isabelle beau decided to propose to her then. It was all terribly sweet and romantic and Seraphita wished she could experience that same sort of love and devotion with someone.</p><p>It came as no surprise that Isabelle would be the first one of the three of them to get married. Seraphita was far too capricious to settle on just one suitor until she met the priest. It didn't help that Seraphita's father had always been harshly critical of any boy she had shown any interest in and often scared them away with his gruff manner. Noemie showed very little interest in men in general, claiming that she had never met one that she liked when her marital status came up in conversation. A few times she had mentioned taking the veil but never actually did anything about it.</p><p>Isabelle and Noemie knew that she was infatuated with her parish priest but as far as they were concerned, it was a harmless crush that Seraphita would get over once another potential suitor crossed paths with her. Seraphita could never tell them the truth, they would try to stop her as any good friend would. They didn't see what she saw in the priest and she didn't think they would ever understand.</p><p>Isabelle noticed her friend's distant look and giggled. "Thinkin' about M. le Curé again?"</p><p>"You still on about him?" Noemie lifted the top of her sandwich to inspect its contents before taking bite out of it. "Why do you like him so much? He's nothin' much to look at."</p><p>"I like his eyes." Seraphita laid on her back and stared up at the canopy of the oak. </p><p>"Monsieur Olivier has better eyes an' is twice as handsome," Noemie scoffed. "Forget the priest an' get yourself a man who isn't already taken. He's wealthy too so you won't be a peasant ever again."</p><p>"I'm not interested in soldiers or wealthy men," Seraphita said. "Besides, Mme. la Comtesse is his Aunt which means I would have to have Mlle. Chantal as an in-law. I'd rather not!"</p><p>"So you're a chalice chipper!" Noemie laughed. She turned to Isabelle. "Let's take her to the closest seminary and see if she can lure one of them out."</p><p>"Some priests stop bein' priests just so they can get married." Isabelle said coyly.</p><p>"Don't you encourage her!"</p><p>"His eyes are always so sad, even when he smiles." Seraphita said dreamily. </p><p>Noemie rolled her eyes. "What's he got to be sad about? He's got a cushy house to live in an' a charwoman. Those priests are often better off than the people they serve; vow of poverty and simplicity my foot!"</p><p>Seraphita wanted to blurt out her true thoughts about the priest. He was an angel sent to earth to shepherd the people of Ambricourt, how did they not see that? She wanted to clip the angel's wings and keep him tucked away from the rest of the world, like the treasure that he was. Noemie was a Protestant so she would likely never understand and Isabelle had never been a particularly devout Catholic, as kind-hearted as she was. No, they wouldn't get it.</p><p>"He's sad because God isn't loved enough." She said cryptically, getting lost in her own thoughts.</p><p>Noemie and Isabelle laughed. </p><p>"She's gettin' all mopey on us again," Noemie said to Isabelle. "I'm tellin' ye that priest is rottin' her brain!"</p><p>Seraphita laughed with them. "I did tell him that he had lovely eyes the last I saw him."</p><p>"You did not!"</p><p>"I did so."</p><p>Isabelle gasped. "Seraphita! Why would you do that?"</p><p>"'Cause it's the truth!" </p><p>Noemie narrowed her eyes at Seraphita. "That's not all is it?"</p><p>"Well," Seraphita sheepishly avoided any eye contact with her friends. "My stockings were botherin' me and so I had lifted my skirt to fix them. And, well, I'm fairly certain he got an eyeful of my legs 'cause when I finally straightened my skirt out and looked up, he was standin' right there. He was blushin'."</p><p>Isabelle first blanched and then laughed loudly while Noemie's eyes widened in horror. </p><p>"Seraphita Dulmouchel! The poor man probably thinks you're some kind of strumpet now."</p><p>Noemie had a point but Seraphita wasn't going to tell her that. She became silent and contented herself with listening to Isabelle and Noemie carry on talking. Her friends were used to her  mood swings and thought nothing of her silence.</p><p>Seraphita furrowed her brow when she thought as Isabelle's earlier off-handed remark came to mind. True, a few priests end up abandoning their former vocations in favour of marrying but this raised a concern; what if the priest ended up falling for Mlle. Louise? If he was stolen from Seraphita than her chances of ever winning his trust and his heart would become slim to none. Her task was already difficult enough without some frail, simpering woman meddling in it. Mlle. Chantal would be an easier obstacle since she hated the priest and the priest didn't like her very much in return but the priest clearly liked Mlle. Louise or at last had pity for her. </p><p>God wasn't making His angel any easier to get to. There were threats coming from various sources and it made Seraphita want to cry in despair. She would have to try harder and stop procrastinating. She had to start acting.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. M. le Curé's 'Bit of Stuff'</h2></a>
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</p><hr/><p>After Mass on Sunday, the priest walked around the church's classroom, collecting disregarded books and paper from the children after they had left. He put the books neatly away into their rightful place and curiously looked at the notes and drawings the children had left behind before he tossed them out one by one.</p><p>In the pile, there was a childish drawing of a woman that was inscribed with the words: '<em>M. le Curé's bit of stuff</em>.' The priest had no way of detecting who the humourist was but the drawing managed to irritate him even if it was a stupid joke made by a child. He didn't take kindly to people implying that he had a girlfriend that he was seeing in secret. Did Mlle. Seraphita or Mlle. Chantal put their siblings up to it? He wouldn't put it past those two. </p><p>Mlle. Seraphita continued to watch him with rapt attention and if he wasn't mistaken, he was beginning to see her more often. Granted, her parents had given her the task of retrieving her brother and sister from church after their catechism class. Seraphita would go off somewhere in town and come back once class was dismissed. What she got up to in those two hours was up for speculation.</p><p>Seraphita had kissed his hands and it made the priest's skin crawl. It wasn't unusual for people to ask him to bless them and if they so chose, they could kneel on the floor or use a kneeler while the priest made the sign of the cross over them and gently touch their head before holding the palms of his hands out for them to kiss. Most people never actually kissed his hands but rather made it looked like they did. Seraphita<em>actually</em> placed a lingering kiss on the palms of his hands and smiled lecherously up at him after doing so.</p><p>He had initially raised his hand to touch Seraphita's forehead while she stood but she had decided to drop to the floor which left the priest a little taken back at first. The whole interaction left him feeling dirty and unclean. Blessing people wasn't something he thought too deeply about but Seraphita had perverted it and left him recoiling in revulsion. It was unsettling, it was invasive, and it was blasphemous. He ought to give her a few stern words the next time he saw her. He was willing to guide a lost soul back to the path of righteousness, he was happy do it, but he wouldn't tolerate disrespect towards Christ and his office as a ministerial priest.</p><p>The priest had again become the target of someone's sick practical jokes lately. If Seraphita wasn't the sole culprit then she was probably working with someone, he was sure of it. First two jars of strawberry jam had mysteriously appeared on his doorstep, then various bushels of herbs appeared in his mailbox, then small bouquets or solitary stems of roses, light and dark red carnation and daisies started appearing in the sacristy, his office in the church, on his doorstep and sometimes in the spokes of his bicycle on top of the occasional loaf of bread or bottle of wine. He politely inquired into who the mysterious gift-giver was around town but to no avail. He had thought it was Mlle. Louise since she had become increasingly more trusting and friendly but she denied her involvement. He considered his Aunt Philoméne and Uncle Ernest but everything he had received from them would have come through the postal office and none of his gifts had passed through the hands of the postman. His charwoman was another obvious person but she was bewildered and warned the priest to keep an eye out for unwanted admirers.</p><p>A small part of him had hoped that Mlle. Louise was responsible for the gifts, that she was doing it out of a token of friendship. He would love to have a real friend in a malicious place like Ambricourt. He ended up sharing the herbs, jam and wine with Mlle. Louise and he blushed and became quite bashful when she smiled and graciously thanked him. </p><p>Mlle. Louise had inspected the jar of jam with a frown and then she said something that struck the priest cold, though it was insignificant to her. She told the priest that the Dulmouchels often made jam and sold it to the local people but they weren't the only family in the surrounding villages to do so.</p><p>Mlle. Seraphita had likely given him the jam then, she was the most logical suspect as far as the priest was concerned. She might have been behind all the other things he had been given as well. If she was then why give him those things and why the secrecy? Maybe she was trying to befriend him but didn't know how. The priest had met a few socially inept or socially awkward people in his life and Seraphita might just be another one of those people. </p><p>With the classroom tidied up and the rest church looked after by the sacristan, the priest donned his cloak and walked outside into the churchyard. He was startled to see Mlle. Louise again so soon. Why had she come back?</p><p>Mlle. Louise, while visibly upset, looked insistently at the priest and hurried over to him. She hastily asked him to assist on a rather delicate matter; the family was determining whether or not Mlle. Chantal should be sent to a finishing school and Mme. la Comtesse was still torn up about it. The girl was becoming so bitter and toxic to be around that the family were at their wits end. Clearly, none were so affected as Mlle. Louise who had been the unfortunate victim of Mlle. Chantal's bullying and snubbing before. The priest could emphasize with her on that much.</p><p>"Chantal is a queer, unbalanced girl. I shouldn't say she was <em>really</em> wicked. Young people of her age nearly always give way to the wildest fancies. But really, you know, she might do <em>anything</em>....." Mlle. Louise trailed off and looked away bashfully.</p><p>The priest thought it better to keep him out of such a sensitive family matter but Mlle. Louise clearly trusted him enough to ask for help. If he was expected to be at the Chateau next week to approach Mme. la Comtesse then so be it; he would go but only because Mlle. Louise had asked him to. He hated how distraught she was and gave her arm a comforting squeeze in an attempt to assure her. He reached into one of the pockets of his cassock for his handkerchief and gave it to Mlle. Louise to dry her eyes with.</p><p>"I'll go." He said once the mademoiselle had dried her eyes. Her face was still a little splotchy but at least she had stopped crying.</p><p>"Thank-you M. le Curé!" The mademoiselle kissed the priest on both cheeks before wishing him a good day and parting ways with him. She had forgotten to give the handkerchief back but the priest would simply retrieve it from her next week.</p><p>He returned to his presbytery late in the evening and sat in his parlour by the fireplace, nibbling on some bread and cheese and occasionally taking a sip of wine. He believed that Mlle. Louise's distress was sincere and she truly believed that he could be of some help in deciding Mlle. Chantal's fate but he lacked authority and experience to act as a go-between in such a case. Asking for his help felt suspect but why would Mlle. Louise be deceitful? He trusted her, he could consider her a friend could he not?</p><p>Curé de Torcy was right; he really was too sentimental for his own good. Curé de Torcy was far more shrewd and cautious, less ruled by his emotions than his young colleague. He likely would have refused to aid Mlle. Louise and avoided the subject therein but Curé de Torcy was much older and likely would be equipped to navigate family drama like that so perhaps he would have accepted the request after all.</p><p>The young cleric wrote his thoughts down in his dairy, his night ending in the same way it nearly always did. He managed to fall asleep despite how busy his thoughts were and dreamed of familiar faces once more.</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Devil of Jealousy is a Dumb Fiend</h2></a>
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</p><hr/><p>Blind with rage, Seraphita aggressively cleaned the muck out of the horses' stalls and gripped her rake until her knuckles turned white. No one was there to see her stomp around and angrily chuck heaps of soiled straw outside of the barn doors and for that she was grateful. She wasn't sure what fib she would tell if she caught because she certainly couldn't explain to her family why she was angry at M. le Curé and Mlle. Louise.</p><p>She shouldn't have lingered in the church's graveyard but her siblings had wanted to play among the tombstones and the prospect of seeing M. le Curé was too tempting to resist. As soon as the priest appeared out of the back door of the church, Seraphita had become overcome with an irrational fear of being seen and hid behind a bush before cautiously peeking out from around its foliage. She felt stupid for doing so but she didn't want to risk being caught. </p><p>Mlle. Louise soon appeared and swiftly walked over to the priest, wringing her hands. Seraphita was too far away to hear their conversation but the perturbed expression on the priest's face told her enough. There was probably trouble at the Chateau with Mlle. Chantal or Mme. la Comtesse again but why drag her angel into the fray?</p><p>She watched the pair curiously and bit back an outraged cry when Mlle. Louise kissed the priest's face. Seraphita disappeared behind the bush, no longer interested in spying and ran a frustrated hand through her hair. Mlle. Louise kissed the priest and he had allowed it! Why? She restrained the urge to go over and yank on Mlle. Louise's hair and slap the priest across the face.</p><p>She clenched her jaw and curled her hands into fists as an image of Mlle. Louise kissing the priest on the mouth came to mind. Was he seeing her in secret or was that kiss on the cheek a one time occurrence? Seraphita much preferred the latter but even that still angered her. She told herself that her angel wouldn't do such a thing, as shy and timid as he was. Clearly Mlle. Louise had accosted the priest and he was too surprised to react.</p><p>When Seraphita found the courage to look around the bush again, the priest was gone. She stormed off to the graveyard to collect her siblings and starting marching off back home without saying a word to them. No doubt they immediately tattled on her once they got home but so far her parents had not said anything but her odd change in mood since that morning.</p><p>Seraphita paused with her work and went out of the stall to take a deep breath. Her hair, though she had secured it rather tightly in a pony tail, was threatening to come lose and beads of sweat had formed on her forehead. She always hated cleaning after the horses but the exertion gave her something to channel her anger into.</p><p>What had Mlle. Louise said to the priest? That little mystery drove Seraphita mad. Mlle. Louise had likely gained what Seraphita was working so hard to achieve; the priest's trust and affection. She swore to herself that she would stop toying with the priest but then she went ahead and salaciously kissed his hands after he blessed her.</p><p>Seraphita was self-sabotaging her own efforts she realized. At least the items she had left and was frequently leaving for the priest had made it into his hands and didn't seem to cause too much trouble. The priest had been asking around for the generous soul so he could thank them properly but no one knew who it was. Seraphita had no desire to reveal herself just yet but she might not be able to keep up the charade for long; her parents were bound to notice the missing things that she was taking from their stores and pantry eventually.</p><p>She heard her father swearing outside. He had pulled the wagon out of the shed to replace some loose or otherwise worn out bolts. They made the wagon feel like was it about to collapse into dozens of pieces when their draft horses pulled it. He was busy with the wagon but hearing his voice stopped her thoughts and reminded her that she hadn't completed her work with the stalls.</p><p>Seraphita turned and continued on with her work. She had just laid fresh straw down in the stalls and filled the water buckets before she heard her sister talking to their father. She looked up as the young girl walked into the barn.</p><p>"Mama says to come back to house and wash up," Her sister said. "Supper is almost ready."</p><p>Seraphita smiled sweetly. "Sure thing, Marly."</p><p>Her father was in a good mood so supper went over relatively peaceful and the family could relax. Afterwards, Marly and their brother Laurent vanished upstairs to play and Seraphita was left alone to knit with her mother. Her father grabbed a copy of the local newspaper and sat by the hearth in the living room to read where he would often remain until well after nightfall.</p><p>Seraphita and her mother chatted pleasantly for some time before they lapsed into a companionable silence. She heard a light clicking noise followed by silence as her mother set her knitting needles down.</p><p>"Seraphita."</p><p>"What is it, Mama?"</p><p>Her mother frowned in disappointment and chewed her lip before responding. "Your brother and sister said that you've been makin' a nuisance o' yourself with that priest. Said you fancy him."</p><p>Seraphita remembered how her mother had snapped at the priest for pointing out Seraphita's eccentricities. "You insulted M. le Cure for makin' the same point."</p><p>"I don't trust his opinions, and he's caused a lot o' scandal around town," Her mother scoffed. "Marlène an' Laurent adore you an' they only told me because they're worried."</p><p>Her father had stopped reading and lowered his newspaper, no longer interested in whatever it had to say. Seraphita really didn't want to have this conversation with her father present but she was trapped. Trying to play dumb wouldn't work on her parents.</p><p>"I just tease him the same way I tease everyone I talk to." Seraphita shrugged, her hands tightened around the knitting needles and yarn in her lap.</p><p>Her mother gave her a skeptical look. "That's not what Marly said."</p><p>"Marly and Laurent are children, what do they know?" Seraphita said defensively.</p><p>"Watch your tone." Her father warned.</p><p>Seraphita immediately mumbled an apology.</p><p>"That priest is more trouble than he's worth," Her mother sighed as she resumed knitting. "I just don't want you wastin' time with a man like him or causin' more scandals. You know how people talk."</p><p>"M. le Curé has pledged himself to God. You ought to leave him alone an' find someone else. He's there to serve the Lord, not cater to your whims." Her father said coldly.</p><p>Hearing her parents disparage the priest made her forget herself and she retorted: "I would but you chase away every boy I pick!"</p><p>Her father's eyes flashed dangerously. "I wouldn't have to if you'd stop draggin' in trash from the street."</p><p>Seraphita deflated. She didn't care if they wanted to carry on the conversation, she had had enough. She threw down the needles and yarn and bolted upstairs to her room, ignoring her parents' calls. Seraphita thought it might be childish of her to run away and lie down on her bed to cry like an impudent toddler but she did so anyway.</p><p>She had to keep her plans with the priest a secret but Seraphita very well couldn't afford any suspicion from her parents. She didn't want to be pushed into doing something drastic so they would leave her alone but if it they became too much of an obstacle between her and M. le Curé then she would have to. Like everyone else who knew the priest, her parents didn't understand what made him so special.</p><p>Her parents left her alone for the remainder of the night but her mother did knock on her door to wish her a goodnight before turning the lights out.</p><p>Seraphita prayed then went to bed. In the darkness of her room, she lay under the covers and caressed her breasts and toyed with her nipples through the thin fabric of her nightgown, pretending her hands were the priest's and squeezed her eyes shut before letting in a shaky breath. Had he ever known the intimate touch of a woman before he had been ordained? If he had, did he miss it? If he hadn't, did he sometimes wish that he hadn't sacrificed ever knowing someone the way a man can know a woman? </p><p>She was heavy with want at the thought of him and her hand soon trailed down to her clit. She imagined the priest touching her with unsteady hands, his cheeks a bright scarlet as he did so. He'd probably be too shy to go further so she'd have to take his hand and show him where to touch her and how, praise him when his touch had its desired affect. </p><p>Seraphita would gladly return the favour though she would a little uncertain herself. What would he sound like in the throes of passion? She had never touched a man though she sorely wanted to and had wished she had taken the opportunity to do so when she was younger. She was always fearful of offending God and shaming her parents so she had always avoided going further with a boy. Flirting was fun enough but she could only achieve so much with that.</p><p>She shouldn't be doing this, it was a sin and she should be keeping herself pure. She was supposed to be abstaining from such carnal acts until her wedding night but she had no interest in marriage or any other man for that matter when she had her angel to think about. She clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle her cries as she surrendered to the sensations wracking her body.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Proper Mad Dogs</h2></a>
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</p><hr/><p>Due to the funeral of the late Mme. Ferrand, Mass was at six o'clock in the morning. At that time in the morning, the church was completely dark beyond the choir-steps and it was silent. The priest thought he was alone. As he made his way to the sacristy, he heard the distinct sound of beads being dragged across a wooden surface. His mind immediately jumped to Mlle. Seraphita. Had she really come to church so early? He couldn't imagine her parents allowing her to travel alone in the dark. It couldn't have been Mlle. Louise either.</p><p>He took off and neatly put away his vestments and jumped when he saw Mlle. Chantal standing in the doorway of the sacristy. Her entire face was contorted into a hard sneer and her eyes glared at him. The intensity of her gaze and her out-of-the-ordinary appearance at the church unnerved him but he squared his shoulders and mustered the courage to speak.</p><p>"You know I can't receive you here. Go home."</p><p>Mlle. Chantal continued glaring at the priest and seemed to be unable to speak, she was so angry.</p><p>The priest tried again. "Mademoiselle, I'll do what I promised you this week."</p><p>"Today." Mlle. Chantal seethed.</p><p>"Today?"</p><p>"Because tomorrow, monsieur, it would be too late. She knows everything that goes on, the sly beast! Her eyes appear good and kind but now I know better. Now I'd like to tear her eyes out, I would! Yes, and stamp on them like that!"</p><p>The priest gawked at Mlle. Chantal in horror and disgust. Was she referring to Mlle. Louise or Mme. la Comtesse? "How can you say that within a few steps of the Blessed Sacrament? Have you no fear of God?"</p><p>"I'll kill her," Mlle. Chantal said. "I'll kill her or I'll kill myself. You'll have to try and explain that away to your God someday."</p><p>The priest found himself taking a step back as Mlle. Chantal ranted. He could barely make sense of what she was saying partially because her voice kept dropping low but mainly because her rage was terrifying to witness. The priest was not a strong man by any means and this wild beast of a human had followed him into the sacristy and blocked his only exit. The priest thought it laughable that many of his contemporaries and forefathers referred to women as the weaker sex. If they sincerely thought that then they haven't actually seen a woman angry.</p><p>Mlle. Chantal drew closer and eventually leaned in towards him with her hand pressed against the wall. Their faces were close together and the priest tried to press himself against the wall even further and held his arms stiffly at his side. He didn't like to think himself a coward but anger in others had always been an emotion that made him want to retreat and never come back out into civilized society again. He couldn't allow Mlle. Chantal to intimidate and bully him though, he would never be able to live it down. With that thought in mind, he slipped away from her and went out of the sacristy and pointed to the altar-rails.</p><p>"First you must kneel." He said, trying to sound as authoritative as he could. </p><p>Mlle. Chantal looked at him with derision instead so he harshly grabbed her hand and forced her to come with him to the altar-rail. Scowling, she did as he told her.</p><p>"Say: 'Dear God, I feel bound to offend you, now, but it is not I who wish to offend, but the devil in my heart.'" The priest said and Mlle. Chantal repeated the entire prayer after him, word-for-word.</p><p>Mlle. Chantal immediately stood back up. "He can send me to Hell for all I care."</p><p>The priest ignored her remark, as there was no use in responding to it. She was only trying to antagonize him. He decided it would be best to guide her towards the confessional. Dawn had broke so faint rays of light now shone through the stain-glass windows "Mademoiselle, I am not going on with this talk here, in the middle of the church. There is only one place where I can hear you."</p><p>"I do not wish to confess." Mlle. Chantal said but knelt of her own accord anyway.</p><p>"I'm not asking you to. You need only remember that these wooden walls have known of so much shame that they are inured. You may be a young lady of gentle birth, but pride here is a sin like any other."</p><p>"I only want justice, you know that well enough. Since that horrible woman came into the house I've eaten more dirt than bread."</p><p>The priest didn't consider himself an easily irritated man but he felt a surge of indignation at Mlle. Chantal's words. He hadn't been quite sure who she was railing against at first, he'd been too overwhelmed by her fury to think straight, but there was now little doubt as to who Mlle. Chantal was referring to. Hearing such horrible and sinful things being said against Mlle. Louise made the priest clutch at the skirt of his cassock in anger. He forced his hands to relax. He had to calm down and listen.</p><p>"At all costs they're going to find a way of turning me out. I know it. I've got to go to England next Tuesday and live with Mother's cousin. She considers it a proper arrangement. Proper! She believes everything they tell her." Mlle. Chantal said.</p><p>"Your mother--" The priest began.</p><p>"--Is an unhappy, foolish, coward who doesn't know how to protect her joy nor her life." The young woman finished for him.</p><p>Mlle. Chantal then laughed a humourless laugh. "Wait until Seraphita finds out that you've been giving her presents away to Mlle. Louise."</p><p>The priest frowned. "How do you know it's Mlle. Seraphita?"</p><p>"I've watched and snooped about when I could. She's been following you around like a bitch in heat. It's the same way I found about that Little Miss Perfect and Mother planned on sending me to England."</p><p>The priest was reeling from what Mlle. Chantal had told him but managed to respond in disgust anyway. "You've been trying your hand at spying. You, a proud lady! I'm only a peasant's son. I spent two years of my youth in a foul pub where <em>you'd</em> never set foot, but I wouldn't do what you have done to save my life."</p><p>Mlle. Chantal stood and left the confessional. The priest followed her, convinced that she would leave, but found that she hadn't strayed too far and was glowering at him. Her face was pale and her hands were trembling.</p><p>"You got a lot of nerve to speak to me as if you're so high and mighty, M. le Curé, when you've been galivanting about with Mlle. Louise. You think no one would have said anything about it?" Mlle. Chantal narrowed her eyes. "Mlle. Louise has told Mother about how kind and sweet you are. You even gave her your handkerchief!"</p><p>The priest scowled at Mlle. Chantal. "It's not what you think."</p><p>"I can't stand it anymore," She said in a childish voice. "Why did you look at me like that? Can't you leave me alone?"</p><p>The priest, uncertain as to how to respond at first, walked Mlle. Chantal to the church door. He didn't want to continue this aggravating conversation inside the church. </p><p>Mlle. Chantal continued to rant, her voice laced with hatred,  as they walked among the tombstones in the churchyard. She ranted about how she hated her parents, how her mother chose the servants over her despite the servants being terrible gossips, and how she had loved her father up until he too, betrayed her, had deceived her. </p><p>"Mother never understood him. She--"</p><p>"Don't speak of your mother. You don't love her. And anyhow--"</p><p>"Go on, say what you've got to say. I hate her. I've always hated--"</p><p>"Hold your tongue!" The priest said impatiently. "No doubt spirits of evil, the most vicious of them, have been growing in your heart for a long time now."</p><p>"Then so be it, let them grow," Mlle. Chantal said. "I should run away to Paris and disgrace myself. Then I'll write home and say: "That's what you've made me!" Then they'll suffer what I've suffered."</p><p>By now the priest understood why Mlle. Louise was so distraught when she had last spoke to him, why Mme. la Comtesse wanted to send her daughter away to England. "I don't believe you would. I don't think you actually want to."</p><p>The priest noticed an envelope peeking out of Mlle. Chantal's bag. Had she written a hurtful letter to her father? Her mother? Mlle. Louise? To whom? He had to know. He had a feeling he needed to take that letter from her and prevent some calamity from happening.</p><p>"Give me that letter--that letter in your bag--at once."</p><p>Mlle. Chantal's face twisted into such an ugly expression of rage and disgust that he thought she was going to strike him and prepared for the worst. She grabbed the envelope and handed it to him. </p><p>"You're Satan in disguise." She hissed.</p><p>A terrible pain bloomed in the priest's stomach and he resisted the urge to bend over in agony. He remembered that one afternoon at the Chateau where he had to leave early because of the exact same sudden pain. He did stop walking however and watched Mlle. Chantal meander through the rows of tombstones out of the corner of his eye.</p><p>He recovered his composure as well as he could though it felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. Mlle. Chantal gave him a strange look and the two studied each other's face. All previous rage and passion had fled from Mlle. Chantal's face and her disposition had become weary. She had calmed for now.</p><p>"You're helpless." The priest said with finality. "Another priest might have kicked you out but I have listened. I have heard you out but I do not accept your challenge. God accepts no challenge."</p><p>"Give the letter back," Mlle. Chantal said. "You needn't bother any more. I can fight my own battles."</p><p>"Your own battles? Against what and who? I'm still coming to speak with your mother."</p><p>"We don't need you sticking your nose into our business. Mlle. Louise should have kept her mouth shut."</p><p>The priest glanced at the envelope in his hands. It was addressed to M. le Comte. No, there was no way he was going to give the letter back. He would ensure that the letter stayed in his possession and then destroy it.</p><p>"I am nothing more than a poor priest, very unworthy, and very wretched, but I know what sin is. You do not. All sins are alike. Who are you to condemn someone else's sin?" Jabs of pain still persisted in the priest's stomach and he struggled to keep the aggravation out of his voice. "You hate your mother but your hate and her sin are two branches from the same tree."</p><p>Mlle. Chantal said nothing and frowned for one last time before she wordlessly left the priest alone. The cleric stood and watched her go, bewildered at what had just occurred. Had he done something wrong? It didn't seem like anything was solved from their interaction. If anything, the priest suspected that he inadvertently contributed to the woes of the Chateau.</p><p>Exhausted from battling with Mlle. Chantal, the priest groaned in exasperation when he thought of the funeral, house calls, and various appointments had to attend to still. The pain in his stomach had soured his mood considerably as well. </p><p>People were wearisome.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. His Entrusted Guardian, Her Saving Grace</h2></a>
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</p><hr/><p>Seraphita was walking into town when she encountered the priest on his bicycle. Her father had sent her to pick up an order from the grocer, M. Pamyre. This worked in Seraphita's favour since she had written a letter to the priest and had planned on either taking it to the presbytery or the church office. She had spritzed the letter with perfume and put a lock of her hair in the envelope for good measure. She wished she could have addressed it to him using his birth name instead of his title but she told herself she would learn it eventually.</p><p>"M. Pamyre is expectin' you," Her father told her on her way out the door. "Just get what we need and come home."</p><p>M. Pamyre too, was yet another person in Ambricourt who wasn't particularly fond of the priest mainly due to a misunderstanding a few months ago. He had given the priest three bottles of elderberry wine on top of whatever the cleric had already bought and the priest had mistaken this as an act of M. Pamyre's well-known hospitality and never paid for the bottles until a bill and a stern note appeared in his mail.</p><p>M. Pamyre quickly forgave the young cleric when he realized that it was a misunderstanding and that the younger man wasn't a swindler of any sort. Even so, Curé de Verchin and other customers often joked about it still and this never failed to annoy M. Pamyre.</p><p>Her angel was far more clumsy in his social interactions than one would expect. Perhaps angels, being so far removed from human nature, had difficulty understanding and adjusting to their sinful, mortal counterparts. If that was the case then it was no wonder God typically only sent them to relay messages and explain prophecies.</p><p>The priest appeared just as she had reached the outskirts of town. Before she could think twice about it, she waved the priest down. The priest looked at her apprehensively but forced a polite smile and peddled over to her side of the road. He got off his bicycle and let down the kickstand with his foot.</p><p>"Is there something I can do for you mademoiselle?" He asked gently.</p><p>Seraphita smiled, hoping it would convey the fondness she felt for the priest. "I was just wondering if M. le Curé has been unwell lately, you've gotten very thin."</p><p>The priest laughed. "I've always been thin, it runs in the family."</p><p>She didn't believe the priest as the complexion of his face was far too pale for it to be healthy and his eyes were sad and fatigued. Being in Ambricourt was having a negative influence on his health, that much was obvious. Would it eventually kill him? He may be an angel but he was still given the fragile body of a man. </p><p>"Just be careful not to run yourself ragged. Everyone says you don't take care of yourself." Seraphita said, forcing herself to look the priest directly in the face. His brown hair looked soft and Seraphita secretly wanted to cut off a lock of it as a keepsake just as she had put a lock of her own hair with the letter she wrote him. She considered giving the envelope to him right there and then but decided that leaving it for him to discover later would be better.</p><p>"Don't worry about me, mademoiselle, people will spread gossip just because they can," The priest said. "I don't care for their opinions, they're not God."</p><p>Seraphita realized that she had no good reason to keep the priest from his obligations any further, she was just wasting his time. She wanted to talk to him more, to be brought into his confidence the way Mlle. Louise and Curé de Torcy were. She had to stop acting so foolish every time she saw him for that to happen.</p><p>"You must be busy, monsieur, so I won't keep you from your appointments for much longer." Seraphita said with a polite bow.</p><p>The priest frowned. "You're allowed to speak to me, mademoiselle, I'm everybody's servant if God so wills it."</p><p>Seraphita smiled again and the two wished each other a good day before parting ways.</p><p>With a spring in her step now that she had seen the priest, Seraphita went to the grocer as she had been instructed to then went to the church, her bag ladened with produce. The church was closer to where she was then the presbytery so she would leave the letter in the office. She entered the sanctuary and looked around the vast space and saw nor heard anyone. Assured that the church was empty, Seraphita sneakily slipped into the office with her letter in her pocket. Instead of finding an empty room as expected, she found Mlle. Chantal rummaging through the drawers of the priest's desk.</p><p>Seraphita gasped. "What are you doin' here?"</p><p>Mlle. Chantal stood up straight and frowned as she looked Seraphita from head to toe. "I could ask you the same thing."</p><p>"I asked you first."</p><p>"M. le Curé took a letter from me two days ago and I was hoping he might have been careless enough to forget it in his office but it appears that I'm wrong," Mlle. Chantal looked around the room imploringly. "He's going to show Mother and Father what I wrote, I just know it. I shouldn't have given it to him when he asked."</p><p>"Why did he take your letter?"</p><p>"Mlle. Louis had asked M. le Curé to come to the Chateau to talk to my mother about what's to be done with me, as if we need his help! I came to the church to explain my side of things. He listened but he didn't understand."</p><p>Mlle. Chantal slammed one of the desk drawers shut. "He told Mlle. Louise that I had acted like a real dog, that I gave him a bit of a fright with how I approached him. I only know this because she scolded me about it. Luckily she hasn't told Mother that I had gone to church that morning. That priest has a stronger constitution than I first realized."</p><p>Seraphita's face darkened. "Why be so nasty to him? He hasn't done anythin' to you yet you've always gone out of your way to be cruel to him."</p><p>"M. le Curé is a priest and yet you act like a hussy whenever he's around," Mlle. Chantal said haughtily in response. "Trying to tempt him to break his vows are we?"</p><p>"No! It's not that!" </p><p>"Then why the fascination with him?"</p><p>"You wouldn't understand." </p><p>Mlle. Chantal shrugged and casually inspected the stack of paper and books that were on the priest's desk. "He comes to visit us a lot on account of Mother and Mlle. Louise. My brothers and his classmates at school joke that you're M. le Curé's girlfriend. You should have seen how red his face got when they told him that."</p><p>Tears of rage sprang up into Seraphita's eyes and she blinked and bit her cheek to try to prevent herself from crying. She couldn't remember the last time she had hated someone as much as she hated the younger woman in front of her.</p><p>"He's got some kind of health issue," Mlle. Chantal went on. "When he was talking to me he grimaced and tried to hide it but I could tell he was having some pretty bad pain in his stomach. As far as I know the idiot won't go to a doctor."</p><p>Mlle. Chantal paused and gave Seraphita a coy look. "But Mlle. Louise is experienced in taking care of invalids so no doubt she'll look after him. Give him some <em>special</em> treatment."</p><p>Spotting a letter opener on top of the priest's desk, Serphita snatched it and rushed Mlle. Chantal, forcing the younger woman into the wall behind the desk. She held the point of the letter opener against Mlle. Chantal's throat hard enough to prick the skin. Mlle. Chantal's eyes widened in terror and she held her hands up in surrender.</p><p>"The lot o' you better leave him alone," Seraphita snarled. "He's mine!"</p><p>Mlle. Chantal's expression morphed into a look of disbelief. "You <em>really</em> <em>do</em> want him to bed him. What are you going to do? Kidnap him? Hold him hostage?"</p><p>"I'll figure somethin' out, never you mind. Just leave him alone an' don't you dare breathe a word o' this."</p><p>"I could care less about that sorry excuse of a man, you can keep him. Perhaps you should talk to Mlle. Louise though since she's the one whose always fawning over him."</p><p>Seraphita lowered her arm and stepped back to give Mlle. Chantal some space, the blade of the letter opener still pointed at her. "Don't insult him like that. I'm tellin' you he's an angel of God, the lot o' you are too stupid and bad to see it."</p><p>Mlle. Chantal's nostrils flared as she raised her chin in defiance. "And what if I don't want to stop? What are you going to do about it?"</p><p>Seraphita hesitated then gritted her teeth. "Then I'm goin' to have to get rid o' you."</p><p>Mlle. Chantal scoffed. "You're bluffing, you're too cowardly to hurt me or anyone else."</p><p>Seraphita's face hardened into an expression of malice. She tightened her grip on the wood handle of the letter opener. The idea of repeatedly driving the blade of the letter opener into Mlle. Chantal's stomach and chest appealed to her but killing Mlle. Chantal in a church in the middle of the day was far too risky. Someone would likely hear Mlle. Chantal's screaming and even if they didn't, she would have to dispose of the body and murder weapon and wash any blood off of her hands without being seen. She also detested the idea of profaning a church.</p><p>Seraphita's hand trembled and her lip quivered. With a frustrated cry, she slammed the letter opener back down on the desk and turned away from the other woman in defeat. Mlle. Chantal moved around Seraphita and walked out of the room without a word. She listened to the other woman's shoes clicking against the marble floor grow distant as she walked away.</p><p>"She-devil!" Seraphita hissed. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve and left her letter peeking out from behind the front cover of the priest's copy of the <em>Catechism</em>, knowing he would see it there.  </p><p>She hurried home, wishing she had ignored the consequences and attacked Mlle. Chantal.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. A Priest Can't Shrink From Sores</h2></a>
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</p><hr/><p>The priest had not destroyed the letter right away. It stayed on his nightstand, tucked in between the pages of his dairy as he deliberated over what he should do with it. He wondered if he should have taken it after all. He hadn't bothered to open it though his curiosity begged him to. He recalled the fury that Mlle. Chantal displayed and could only imagine what hated-filled words she had set on paper. Whatever the young lady had written would remain between her and God though and the longer the priest had the letter, the more he wanted to be rid of it. </p><p>On the day he was set to go speak with Mme. la Comtesse, he grabbed the letter out from his diary and tossed it into the fireplace. He watched it burn before he donned his cloak and made the short walk to the Chateau. He didn't know what help he might be, he had not thought of or prepared what he was going to say in advance, but he prayed that the Holy Spirit would provide him with the right words.</p><p>He rang the doorbell and was allowed entry by the butler who judgmentally eyed his worn cassock and the patches he had to add to the elbows. As he waited in the lounge for his hostess, he remembered his encounter with Mlle. Seraphita. Against his better judgement, he didn't peddle faster as he wanted to but stopped to see what she wanted from him. As much as Mlle. Seraphita's presence unsettled him, she was still one of the faithful and he was obliged to her if she or her family needed him.</p><p>His conversation with Mlle. Seraphita was mundane and ordinary but she was shockingly sweet and polite to him. She hadn't tried to flirt with him or make any innuendos and he left her presence feeling like he had imagined the entire interaction. Perhaps Seraphita had a change of heart. If that was the case than he would be willing to forget any past transgressions and befriend her.</p><p>But then he had found an envelope tucked inside of his copy of the <em>Catechism</em> and once he realized it was from Mlle. Seraphita, the memory of her cheerful disposition towards him immediately took on a sinister edge. He didn't read it right away but looked for a name to no avail. In his mind, there was only one possible suspect that would have given him the letter with a lock of hair in the envelope. He was still finding flowers at the presbytery and the church but this was quite new. </p><p>It had to be Mlle. Seraphita's doing. At first he tried to rationalize it by telling himself that she might have done it because she wanted to begin a friendly exchange of letters but the perfumed paper and the lock of hair was throwing that theory off. The priest had heard of relatives keeping the hair of deceased or distant loved ones but most often they were exchanged as keepsakes between lovers. He was not dying nor was he a friend or relative that planned on being away for an extended period of time. That and the scent of the paper left one conclusion to him.</p><p>The priest couldn't bring himself to read the letter and had left it on his nightstand where it still remained, untouched. The priest wanted to help Mlle. Seraphita. She was clearly an extremely confused young woman who was the product of a sheltered upbringing and had little understanding of boundaries or social etiquette. Perhaps talking to her out of this nonsense would be the solution. The situation with Mlle. Seraphita would have to wait for now; as it was, he had a promise to keep to Mlle. Louise.</p><p>He looked up and nearly jumped when he saw Mme. la Comtesse standing in the doorway of the drawing-room. She beckoned him in and he followed her. Once they were seated, the priest steeled himself for what was about to happen. He looked Mme. la Comtesse in the eye.</p><p>"I've come here to talk about your daughter, madame."</p><p>Mme. la Comtesse sniffed. "I'm listening but I fancy I know more than you do about my poor little girl."</p><p>"I saw her two days ago in church." He began.</p><p>"Children who rebel against their parents have no business in church." Mme. la Comtesse interrupted.</p><p>"A church is for everyone, madame."</p><p>Mme. la Comtesse's face hardened into an expression of obstinance. "You're the dupe of an intriguing little girl."</p><p>His hostess sighed in annoyance. "Monsieur le Cure, I have no doubt that your intentions are pure but there some situations where no man can ever know anything. It needs a woman to see them. Girls her age always think themselves miserable and misunderstood and they always find some simpleton to believe them."</p><p>It was not the first time someone had insulted him directly to his face and he doubted it would be the last. Getting angry wouldn't help now so he swallowed his wounded ego. He would try to stitch this splintered family back together somehow.</p><p>"You don't love your daughter, madame." He said.</p><p>"How dare you--" Mme. la Comtesse stopped herself from finishing her sentence. She took a moment a calm herself before she spoke again. "You think I'm a bad, heartless mother?"</p><p>The priest quickly tried to amend for his rash words. "I don't presume to judge you neither can I allow myself to judge your daughter but I know what suffering is. It speaks its own words that cannot be taken literally. I do not approve of it but I try to understand it. A priest can't shrink from sores any more than a doctor. He must be able to look at pus and wounds and gangrene. Wounds of the soul give out pus, madame."</p><p>Mme. la Comtesse's face paled but she said nothing so the priest continued. </p><p>"That's why I can't remember what mademoiselle told me. I don't have a right to anyway, what she told me was spoken in confidence. I must pay attention to the suffering, provided that it is genuine."</p><p>It was obvious to the priest that Mme. la Comtesse was losing her patience and he half-expected her to tell him to leave. </p><p>"My daughter is simply jealous of Mlle. Louise. I suppose she told you all kinds of terrible things?"</p><p>"She's jealous of her father's affection."</p><p>"Jealous of her father? What of me then?"</p><p>"She ought to be comforted, reassured--"</p><p>"So I should go down on my knees and beg for pardon?"</p><p>"You shouldn't let her go away from home with her heart full of despair."</p><p>This struck some deep, hidden part of Mme. la Comtesse for she began to bear her soul as it were to the priest. She ranted about how she lost a son many years ago, how her daughter had always been selfish, savage even, how her husband had been habitually unfaithful to her throughout their marriage, about her solitude and grief, about her anger at God. She spoke hateful words towards her own child that were so vile the priest did his best to banish them from his memory. He allowed this unrelenting wave of pain batter him and the longer he listened, the more pity he felt for both Mme. la Comtesse and her daughter. Seeing the normally composed woman lose her head stunned the priest into silence.</p><p>The lady forced herself to stop, surprised at her own outburst. She fixed the priest in a withering gaze. "You're a sly little priest. Well, let's get it over with! What did Chantal tell you? Tell me the truth."</p><p>The priest hesitated to answer.</p><p>"She loathes Mlle. Louise, it's the same with every stranger that comes into our home. I can see you believe whatever it was she told you, that little beast--" Mme. la Comtesse stopped herself again.</p><p>The priest remained silent.</p><p>Seeing that he wouldn't reveal what her daughter had said, Mme. la Comtesse folded her hands neatly in her lap, as if just remembering her well-mannered upbringing. "Why did you come here? What do you want?"</p><p>The priest finally broke his silence. "Mlle. Chantal told she would be going away soon. I know I have no right to object but I wish to know what you intend and if your decision is really final."</p><p>"It is," Mme. la Comtesse confirmed with a curt nod of her head. "I don't understand how a girl of her age can consider a few months in England with friends of ours a terrible ordeal."</p><p>"Which is why I thought we might come to some understanding in the hope that mademoiselle will listen to you." The priest was in over his head but he wasn't ready to accept defeat yet.</p><p>The lady snorted. "Listen to me? She'd die first."</p><p>"Indeed, I fear she may be driven to extremes."</p><p>Mme. la Comtesse stood and walked over to the window, where she stared at something the priest could not see. "Mlle. Louise has no means of her own, we can't just turn her out into the street just to satisfy the spite of a little girl!"</p><p>Mlle. Louise was certainly thrown into an unfortunate position amidst all this quarreling. No wonder she had been crying when she had last spoken to the priest, she was probably terrified that she would lose her place at the Chateau and become destitute. Throwing Mlle. Louise out was something that the priest wanted to prevent but repairing the damaged bond between mother and daughter was his priority.</p><p>"Madame, if you turn your child out of doors, it will be forever."</p><p>"The entirely depends on her."</p><p>"I mean to oppose you."</p><p>"You don't <em>know</em> her. She's too proud to stay here on sufferance."</p><p>The priest's patience finally gave out. "God will break you."</p><p>"He already has!" Mme. la Comtesse snarled. He's taken my son. What more can He do?"</p><p>"He's taken him from you for a short while, but your hard heart will separate you from him for all eternity."</p><p>Mme. la Comtesse had rejected God, closed her heart to Him and was now being forced to face Him. The priest had seen this struggle over and over again enough times. Making a sinner see the error of their ways and the sinful ways of the people around them was a challenge but it was a challenge the priest was willing to undertake. He hoped that Mme. la Comtesse would try to have more compassion and understanding for her daughter because otherwise, Mlle. Chantal might be a lost cause. He tried to explain his thoughts the best he could and when he was finished, a lengthy silence stretched out between them.</p><p>Mme. la Comtesse was the one to break the silence. "I have sinned against God. I must have hated Him. An hour ago my life seemed so perfectly arranged and you've left nothing standing."</p><p>"Give it to God as is."</p><p>"I'll give Him all or nothing."</p><p>"Give Him everything, even your pride."</p><p>Mme. la Comtesse drew a medallion out from around her neck and pressed . "Will you swear to me--"</p><p>"God cannot be bargained with madame. We must give ourselves up to Him unconditionally. Give Him everything and He will give back even more."</p><p>Mme. la Comtesse impulsively tossed her medallion into the fire and the priest dove after it without thinking. He managed to quickly grab it and pull it out but his fingers were blistered and his sleeve was charred to the elbow. Seeing the priest's dismayed face and his blistered fingers bleed snapped Mme. la Comtesse out of whatever rage she felt and she tore up a handkerchief to bandage them.</p><p>The priest beckoned Mme. la Comtesse to pray with him and she did so. He blessed her. "God wants us to be merciful with ourselves. Remember that." </p><p>"Will you hear my confession tomorrow?" Mme. la Comtesse asked quietly.</p><p>"Of course, but promise me that you won't tell anyone what we spoke of and I'll promise my silence on the matter as well."</p><p>The lady quickly agreed. "You've given me a lot to think about, I have some serious considerations to make."</p><p>The priest left the Chateau at mid-day and went on his way to Dombasle. His appetite returned to him for once and he bought some bread and butter on his travels and ate hungrily. He wondered if he had done the right thing, if he was able to be of any help. He returned home late in the evening and found a packet from Mme. la Comtesse in his mailbox.</p><p>Inside it was a note and the medallion that Mme. la Comtesse had thrown into the fire. The lady's words gave the priest a measure of peace; she sounded relieved, happy, like she had finally broken out whatever dark shell that she had put herself in. For that the priest was glad and gave thanks to God.</p><p>Mlle. Seraphita's letter still remained where it was.</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. May God Watch Over Her</h2></a>
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</p><hr/><p>The priest finally read Mlle. Seraphita's letter to him and sat alone in his house, brooding about it over a glass of wine. He had hoped her words would be far more platonic in nature than anything else but no, his hopes were crushed upon reading the entire letter. She sounded completely lovesick and not of sound mind. What had possessed her to write the sordid thing? She wasn't winning herself any favours with it.</p><p>
  <em>Monsieur le Curé,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I wish I had the strength to speak to you more plainly in person but I must resort to writing my thoughts to you instead. You have met me and have spoken with me a few times before and you have left a profound mark upon my heart and my very soul. However, I'm afraid that I have left a poor impression of my true character upon you and hope you will allow me to atone for it.</em>
</p><p>Not a suspicious opening, it almost gave him a small ounce of hope but then he read on.</p><p>
  <em>I do not think you and I are really all that different. I see how the others gossip and jeer at you and have pushed you out of their little society, deciding right from the moment you first arrived in Ambricourt that you were far too queer, too alien for the likes of them. It's difficult to ignore how cruel they are to you, especially since I so vehemently disagree with their assessment of you. </em>
</p><p>The priest took a swill from his wine and grimaced as he felt a twinge of pain in his stomach. The wine typically relaxed him but thinking about Mlle. Seraphita's predatory behaviour made him anxious and stressed. The wine was not having the soothing affect that he hoped for.</p><p>Mlle. Seraphita's words hit a raw nerve within him and his eyesight became hazy with tears. True, he was extremely solitary and any person he felt the slightest bit of a connection to held him at arm's length away. Even as much as much as he admired his brother priests like Curé de Torcy, they regarded him as foolish or as a bit of an oddity. Mlle. Louise had become his only friend but he risked losing her if Mlle. Chantal had her way.</p><p>He didn't become a priest to be well liked and popular. If he had to be jeered at and rejected in this sinful den of a parish then so be it, he would follow the commands of God and defend his faith as he had been commanded to, ministering to God's children. The priest's lonesome state was his cross to carry and he must bear it with dignity and grace, the same way that Christ faced his death at Calvary.</p><p>
  <em>You might find it silly of me, but I am convinced that you are some kind of angel or at least quite holy. You have the grace and purity that the rest of us do not. Like Christ, you're the outcast who the ignorant fools vie for the crucifixion of. Like one of His angels, you have an innocence that the hardened sinners find repulsive.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I too know what it is like to be an outcast M. le Cur</em>
  <em>é</em>
  <em>. I often blunder and am too impulsive. This has led to misunderstandings with plenty of people in my life, including you. I am sincere in my good intentions but it would seem that I still fail to ever be understood properly. Intention and the execution of those intentions are two different things.</em>
</p><p>Him? An angel? He was anything but. He was far too sensitive for his own liking, very wretched and stupid but an angel? Absolutely not. He was definitely not like Christ either and never would be, no matter how hard he tried. If anything, he was a pitiful parody of his Lord. How blasphemous of her to even think of such a thing, let alone write it down and send it to him! Mlle. Seraphita was making an idol out of him and she needed to repent of that egregious sin.</p><p>
  <em>Please accept my sincere apologies for my transgressions against you. I am a wretched sinner like you and have struggled with sexual sin for many years now. Since you've been my confessor for nearly all of that time, you would know this well. I hope you may give me a chance to prove myself and make it up to you, and God of course.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sincerely yours,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>An admirer</em>
</p><p>He definitely needed to speak with Mlle. Seraphita. This confusing nonsense needed to be put to an end. The young woman had dived into dangerous, ungodly territory and the priest feared for her mental stability and her very soul. Much like Mme. la Comtesse and Mlle. Chantal, Mlle. Seraphita's soul carried some kind of wound in it that was causing her to behave and think the way she was. The young woman acknowledged her sin in some way but she had an odd way of asking for his for his forgiveness. The priest struggled to discern whether or not this desire to "make it up to him" was genuine or not.</p><p>He considered trying to speak to her parents again, but after the disastrous conversation with Mme. Dulmouchel, the priest doubted either she or M. Dulmouchel would listen to him. He could show them the letter and the hair that came with it but he suspected that they would choose denial over accepting the truth that their eldest daughter was possessed by a demon of lust. Mlle. Seraphita was an adult but if she had some kind of severe mental problem than the priest ought to consult her parents and a psychiatrist on what to do with her.</p><p>The priest had heard of women like Mlle. Seraphita who actively tried to pursue priests and other men in the consecrated life. In seminary, some young women succeeded in snatching some of the students away from their studies and those men ended up leaving. One of his old schoolmates, Louis Dufréty, had recently been defrocked because he had heeded the siren call. He had a hard time understanding why any woman would choose a priest over an ordinary fellow. Was it because they saw priests as more of a challenge to seduce? </p><p>The priest was never one who was able to attract the attention of the opposite sex. He didn't think he was particularly ugly but he was far too quiet, far too solitary, far too clumsy to be noticed. Besides, his mother had needed him since his father had died in the Great War and so he stuck close to her until he felt the call and went off to seminary. He didn't have very many friends in seminary either but still found that people would confide in him, would trust him with their darkest secrets. </p><p>The cleric was treated coldly on a daily basis but people still found it within themselves to tell him things they wouldn't tell anyone else. All manners of people had come to him but he didn't think he would ever draw the attention of someone as disturbed as Mlle. Seraphita. He was just an ordinary man and if it weren't for his cassock, he'd be just like anyone else. Mlle. Seraphita would probably overlook him if he wasn't a priest.</p><p>He definitely couldn't go to Curé de Torcy for advice on this matter. He'd berate the younger man for meddling in other people's affairs again, especially the affairs of women. Louis Dufréty was even more sentimental than he was and he would rather die than tell his Aunt and Uncle what was going on. Talking to Mlle. Louise appealed to him but he didn't want to get the gentle lady caught inbetween his and Mlle. Seraphita's quarrels. She had already been thrown into the crossfire of other people's drama.</p><p>The priest downed the last of his wine and knelt at his bedside to pray. His stomach ached the entire time.</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. The Demon of Lust</h2></a>
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</p><hr/><p>Seraphita tried not to fall over when the priest approached her after early morning Mass. Mlle. Louise had been there as she usually was but quickly left as soon as the priest gave the last blessing. He must have read what Seraphita had written to him and wanted to speak to her about it. She supposed it was bound to happen eventually.</p><p>She tilted her head at him and gave him a coy smile just to see his cheeks turn faintly pink. It was too easy to make him blush, she enjoyed having that power over him.</p><p>The priest's expression hardened into one of disappointment. "Mademoiselle, your letter was most unbecoming."</p><p>Seraphita's slowly smile faded and she bowed her head. "Oh. I'm sorry for makin' you uncomfortable. I was tryin' to explain my thoughts since I was too afraid to say them to you in person."</p><p>The priest shook his head sadly. "I understand that but you must be intelligent enough to realize that sending me a perfumed letter with a lock of your hair was completely inappropriate."</p><p>Seraphita wanted to bolt like she had many times before when she had seen the priest but she found herself stubbornly rooted to the spot. She could handle the priest's anger but his disappointment stung far worse. She had disappointed and upset him all because of her impulsive and childish games. How many times had she told herself that she would stop toying with him?</p><p>"How can I make it up to you M. le Curé?"</p><p>"It's not me you should be concerned about, it's Him." The priest looked over at the tabernacle for emphasis.</p><p>"Can't I be reconciled with both you and God?"</p><p>"My personal feelings on the issue don't matter. My concern is with the salvation of your soul and I have seen you wandering away from God since I was first assigned here."</p><p>Seraphita bit back a smile. Her efforts to get his attention were working if he felt compelled to speak to her about it in person. Would he finally give her the attention she craved?</p><p>"Then help me, M. le Curé, what should I do?" Seraphita asked in as neutral of a tone as she could manage.</p><p>"Repent of your ways."</p><p>"You must have a low opinion of me."</p><p>"What I truly think is known only to God."</p><p>Seraphita looked up him from her her eyelashes. "Would you be willing to be my spiritual advisor?"</p><p>The priest hesitated. "Yes, but you must stop this nonsensical obsession you have. Your worship should be directed at Christ, not me or any other person."</p><p>Seraphita made the sign of the cross over her heart, mouth and forehead with her thumb. "Sure as God can see me, I'll change my ways. I'm sorry. I get these stupid ideas in my head an' I throw myself into them with little thought."</p><p>Seraphita stepped closer to the priest and caught a faint whiff of his cologne. She inhaled it deeply and relished the scent of teakwood. "I must tell you that when I left that there letter in your office, Chantal was here rootin' through your things. We argued an' she insulted you an' me an' finally I had had enough an' I threatened her with a letter opener. I was tempted to kill her then but didn't."</p><p>The priest's expression was difficult to read. "Temptation itself is not a sin. Have you thought about harming the mademoiselle since then?"</p><p>"As long as she leaves you alone, the thought will never cross my mind again."</p><p>The priest said nothing, probably disturbed by what she had just said. He likely had heard worse things but he was a rather young priest so perhaps not. Is what she said really that shocking?</p><p>"Why harm Mlle. Chantal?" He asked quietly.</p><p>"'Cause she's cruel to you."</p><p>The priest raised an eyebrow at her curiously. "So you fancy yourself judge, jury and executioner?"</p><p>Seraphita hesitated to answer. </p><p>"Mlle. Chantal is a deeply wounded person and she in turn wounds others because of it," The priest said wistfully. "Avoid her when you can but remember to have compassion and pray for our enemies. They need it more than you think. Violence against Mlle. Chantal will solve nothing."</p><p>Her angel was so merciful, maybe too merciful. Seraphita believed Mlle. Chantal to be unworthy of such mercy but she wasn't as wise, as far-seeing as an angel so she would have to trust the priest's word. The grace the priest was displaying in the face of his troubles made Mlle. Chantal and the others of the parish all the more unworthy in Seraphita's eyes. He was too good for them.</p><p>"May I confess to you?"</p><p>"If you are sincere and truly remorseful then yes." The priest said kindly.</p><p>There were times where Seraphita hated confession but was compelled to go to it regardless and this was one of those times. She felt cornered by the priest and told him about her impurity, about her tendency to touch herself, but omitted that her impure thoughts always involved him. Once again, she knew that she should have been more honest but would it have been wise to tell him that she fantasized about the two of them deflowering each other?</p><p>His soothing words washed over her and Seraphita relished how soft his voice sounded in the confessional versus when he was preaching or talking in his normal volume. She found herself not being able focus and only half listened. He mentioned something about a demon of lust and how a Church Mother battled with sexual impurity for thirteen years and Seraphita was sharply brought out of her thoughts. </p><p>"I see." She said and hoped that that was a good enough answer.</p><p>"Was there anything else?"</p><p>Seraphita looked down at her folded hands. "That is all I have to confess today."</p><p>She glanced up as she caught movement in her peripheral vision but realized that it was the priest making the sign of the cross as he muttered a blessing and gave her absolution. "I'll pray for you."</p><p>"Thank-you, M. le Curé, I won't let you down."</p><p>In the dim light, Seraphita could see the priest give a curt nod of his head before he rose out of his seat and was gone.</p><p>Seraphita left the confessional and impulsively called after the priest as he walked away. "Goodbye monsieur!"</p><p>The priest ignored her and left the church.</p><p>Seraphita broke out into a fit of giggles and casually walked down the centre aisle towards the church doors, swinging her arms like she used to as a child. She had been expecting rejection from the priest but instead had been given an opportunity to mend things with him. She had made a promise to her angel and she would work hard to upkeep it.</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Good News</h2></a>
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</p><hr/><p>Mlle. Chantal remained in Ambricourt and Mme. la Comtesse was of a more friendly disposition. Seraphita recalled Mlle. Chantal telling her that the priest was supposed to come and talk to her mother and whatever had transpired between them had caused Mme. la Comtesse to change her mind. Mlle. Chantal was still as prickly as ever and Mlle. Louise was being thrown out of the Chateau but there was one less person who would be rude to the priest. It was a terrible situation for Mlle. Louise but Seraphita was glad that she would be leaving Ambricourt, it would be one less person in the way of the priest.</p><p>She didn't like that Mlle. Chantal had been allowed to stay in town. Considering her murderous outburst the last time the two had spoken, Seraphita wasn't sure if she would be able to control her anger if the other woman provoked her again. She had promised the priest that she would and it was this promise that made Seraphita avoid Mlle. Chantal even more than she normally would have.</p><p>On a Thursday, Seraphita limped her way to the church to fetch her siblings. Since her last conversation with the priest she had fasted and prayed for forgiveness and studied Scripture but she suspected that it wasn't punishment enough. That day, Seraphita had grabbed a thick string and tied it around her thigh just above the knee tightly enough for it to cause her discomfort and swore that she would wear it for the day. At first, she could withstand it but it steadily became agonizing. </p><p>She greeted her siblings cheerily then smiled at the priest before the trio began to walk away.  </p><p>"Mademoiselle, a moment please?"</p><p>Seraphita turned to her brother and sister. "Why don't you go play outside and wait for me? I'll be with you shortly."</p><p>Marly and Laurent gleefully ran out of the church before she could finish her sentence.</p><p>The priest reached into his pocket and produced a light blue handkerchief with Seraphita's initials embroidered into it. It was folded into a neat little square and smelled faintly of laundry soap. He or his charwoman must have washed it for her. </p><p>"You had forgotten this yesterday." The priest said softly.</p><p>Seraphita grabbed it from him and deposited into her skirt pocket with a mumbled thanks. "I didn't realize that it had fallen out of my pocket."</p><p>The priest's eyes were studying her legs. "Why are you limping?" </p><p>Seraphita hastily pulled down her skirt a little more to hide her leg and tried to bolt from the priest but he was much quicker and grabbed her arm. She sheepishly faced him and lifted her skirt just above the string. Her leg was purple and bruised and her stocking had a tear in it from rubbing against the string.</p><p>"Why did you do that to yourself?"</p><p>"It's to punish me for my wrongdoin'. I felt that you were too easy on me."</p><p>The priest shook his head in disapproval before grabbing a pair of scissors from the classroom. "Cut that off."</p><p>Seraphita obeyed him and grimaced at the sudden rush of blood through her leg. She lost her balance temporarily and would likely have fallen had the priest not caught her by the waist with both hands. He quickly removed his hands from her waist as if he had been stung.</p><p>"Are you alright?"</p><p>"Yes, I'll be fine."</p><p>"Don't do that again. There's no need for it."</p><p>"I promise I won't do it again."</p><p>Seraphita left the church and walked home with her siblings. She kept thinking about the priest's hands on her waist. For one so frail, his hands had a surprisingly firm grip; it sent shivers up Seraphita's spine. She longed to be held or caressed by those same anointed hands, the same hands that tenderly held their Lord at Mass.</p><p>She looked at her own hands, noting the callouses and marks in them from her life spent on a farm,  the hands of a peasant. She would likely never have the soft, dainty hands of someone like Mlle. Louise or Mlle. Chantal but hers had the strength that theirs lacked.</p><p>Seraphita glanced at Marly and Laurent as they walked ahead of her. They kept picking up small stones and the occasional twig before tossing them further up the road as hard as they could could. </p><p>Laurent had started talking about becoming a priest when he was older. The boy would try to mimic the priest at Mass and pretend to bless various items around the house. She should tell the priest the next time she saw him, it'd probably make him smile. The priest very rarely, if ever, smiled.</p><p>Her thoughts about the priest faded once they arrived home as her parents had some news to tell her: they would be leaving for Arras in two days. An old friend of her father's from his military days had died from lung cancer and he felt obliged to see his old comrade off. Seraphita would be left in charge of her siblings and the farm.</p><p>"If there's any trouble, go to Monsieur Rougeau down the road, he and his wife know already." Mme. Dulmouchel said.</p><p>Seraphita couldn't remember the last time she had seen her father look so distressed. He sat sullenly in his armchair, staring off into the distance. Whoever this stranger had been, he'd been very important to M. Dulmouchel at one point. She heard how old soldiers had bonds with their fellow soldier that lasted a lifetime, bonds that were never forgotten no matter the years spent apart. It seemed an awful thing to lose.</p><p>Seraphita pitied her father but coupled with this pity was the thrilling prospect of being alone. Her brother and sister would be home but she would be the only adult in the house and this would give her a measure of freedom she seldom felt. Her siblings still had school their catechism and other needs that she would need to attend to but she didn't mind. Her brother and sister were more capable than their parents gave them credit for.</p><p>She was going to be alone for a few days! She had to make the most of that.</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. It's You She Made a Fool Of</h2></a>
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<hr/><p>Several weeks went by without any incident from Mlle. Seraphita. True to her word, she had not bothered the priest the way she used to although she still could not resist playing harmless pranks on him. If he had to have the keys to the sacristy mysteriously go missing only to find them sitting on a pew or the furniture in the office be moved a few inches to the left then so be it. The priest could easily laugh off these things. He could almost like Mlle. Seraphita, maybe be friends with her.</p><p>The priest was sorely upset to hear that Mlle. Louise had gone to Arches since she was no longer welcome in the Chateau. Very little had changed with Mlle. Chantal but Mme. la Comtesse had made peace with God and was making the effort to try and mend things with her daughter. The priest wished he could have been of more service to them as he felt that he accomplished very little in actually solving any problem whatsoever.</p><p>He was concerned that Mlle. Louise might be cross with him and was surprised to see her show up at his home one day. She must have walked all the way from Arches for her shoes were caked with mud and her face looked dirty and tired. She was normally a tidy and careful woman so her disheveled appearance worried the priest.</p><p>He smiled warmly and welcomed her anyway. "Mademoiselle! I'm glad to see you, I was beginning to wonder if I would hear from you."</p><p>"I've been living in a hotel since I left Ambricourt," Mlle. Louise said distraught. "I have not received wages in six months. M. le Comte's solicitor made me such an unsatisfactory offer that I refused it so now I'm stuck at an impasse."</p><p>"I hope you may accept my humble apologies--" The priest began.</p><p>Mlle. Louise gave him a confused look. "What for?"</p><p>"I feel that I am partially responsible for your current misfortune."</p><p>"What? No, don't be sorry. I asked you to help and you did what you could. It's not your fault Mlle. Chantal always gets what she wants," Mlle. Louise took her gloves off and screwing them in both hands. "Mme. la Comtesse seemed to be in better spirits at least the last I saw her."</p><p>"She found peace with God."</p><p>"At least someone has a sense of peace around here," Mlle. Louise said cynically. "Just the other day, some people at the market who used to talk to me decided to snub me for good it would seem."</p><p>"Pretend not to see them either," The priest frowned in pity. "I can speak to M. le Comte and get you what is owed. Just give me an address send it forward to."</p><p>"I was just going to go talk to him and Mlle. Chantal myself. I wanted to see you first though."</p><p>The priest shook his head. Mlle. Louise would only be humiliated by Mlle. Chantal further if she went to the Chateau to ask for the wages she was owed. The priest could handle being humiliated and being made a fool out of, his life being spent in poverty made him desensitized to humiliation. It wasn't something that was unfamiliar to him and he would much prefer that it he who bore the brunt of Mlle. Chantal's fury than his friend.</p><p>"Give up this idea of seeing Mlle. Chantal," The priest said. "You would end up debasing yourself to no purpose and get trampled on."</p><p>Mlle. Louise's eyes became glassy and the priest could tell that she was battling not to show whatever fury or despair she felt over her situation.</p><p>"I'm no match for her," Her voice broke. "She has broken my spirit."</p><p>"There's nothing in you to break."</p><p>Mlle. Louise grabbed the priest's sleeve and leaned in. "She utterly loathes you! She's always loathed you! She worms things out of the children concerning you, about how you speak and behave in your catechism class and the salacious things Mlle. Seraphita had done. She'll imitate your walk and mimic your voice as a joke too. Between the two of them I don't know whose more obsessed but Mlle. Chantal is far more merciless."</p><p>The priest almost felt like crying himself. He was well aware of the cruelty of Mlle. Chantal and the other residents of Ambricourt, there was no need to tell him. It was as if Mlle. Louise had struck him.</p><p>She went on: "Mlle. Chantal had told her father that Mlle. Seraphita is in love with you and had often flirted with you and even left gifts for you on your doorstep in an attempt to woo you. They were both tickled to death by it of course."</p><p>"Louise," The priest said through his teeth. "Please stop."</p><p>The informal use of her name made Mlle. Louise's eyes widen in surprise. "You <em>got </em>to know what she's like."</p><p>"I <em>know </em>already. I know what Mlle. Chantal and Mlle. Seraphita are like. You can't understand either of them." The priest said. He turned his head away in embarrassment as his eyes welled over with a few stray tears. </p><p>Mlle. Louise reached over and wiped a tear away from under the priest's eye with her thumb. "Has Mlle. Seraphita been bothering you?"</p><p>"Not for some time now," The priest said. "I had confronted her on her behaviour and she has agreed to change. She's been true to her word thus far."</p><p>"I don't trust her. I'd be careful around her if I were you."</p><p>"I'll be careful," The priest smiled politely. "I promise it all shall be dealt with. I'll talk to M. le Comte on your behalf."</p><p>"Thank you, monsieur."</p><p>Mlle. Louise did not tarry for long as the priest had to go to Amiens but gave him his handkerchief back before she left. Curé de Torcy had sent the yong priest a note telling him that he had a heart attack and had been moved to a nursing home. On the train ride there, the priest watched the countryside pass his window, immersed in his own thoughts. He was eager to see his old colleague.</p><p>M. le Curé was his usual prickly self despite recovering from a heart attack. He greeted his young counterpart with gruff fondness and bade him to sit with him. </p><p>"So the women of Ambricourt go to you to solve their problems?"</p><p>"You make it sound like I have a harem." The priest tried to joke.</p><p>Curé de Torcy pulled a face at him.  "I'm serious. I always knew you were a little muddler and you keep proving me right."</p><p>"I don't go out for looking for trouble if that's what you're implying."</p><p>"No, you may not willfully get yourself involved in petty drama but you're naive enough to easily get sucked into other people's lives."</p><p>"I was simply asked to help Mme. la Comtesse and Mlle. Chantal, that's all."</p><p>"That's not what I heard." The older man said sternly.</p><p>Curé de Torcy steely eyes roamed over the young priest's face. The young priest thought his colleague was going to interrogate him on the situation at the Chateau further but he mercifully changed the subject. "My goodness sonny, I daresay you're the one who needs to be in a nursing home! Are you still unwell?"</p><p>The young priest grimaced. "It comes and goes."</p><p>The sharp stabs of pain in his stomach were getting worse in severity and frequency. He could no longer consume much consistently beyond wine that he sweetened with sugar and bread. Occasionally he baked some apples with butter and enjoyed some cheese but his usual fare of meat and vegetables irritated his stomach more and more. He wasn't about to tell Curé de Torcy that, not if he wanted to get berated.</p><p>"Why don't you go see the specialist in Lille?"</p><p>"I will," The young priest said. "It's just--"</p><p>"Just nothing!" Curé de Torcy snapped, gesticulating to emphasis his point. "I used to work myself to the bone like you did and now look where it got me! By God's grace, I survived."</p><p>Curé de Torcy stopped himself short and took a deep breath. His face had turned red from his outburst and it slowly returned to its normal pallor as he calmed himself.</p><p>"I got to take heed of my blood pressure now," The older man remarked. "I'm getting old, son."</p><p>"Time happens to us all." The young priest laughed.</p><p>"Oh, that's easy for you to say, you're what? 27? 28? 28. Right, you're still young and still got some fight left in you," Curé de Torcy eyed the young man critically. "Then again, with the way you're carrying on, perhaps not."</p><p>His expression softened. "You ought to care of yourself, sonny. How are you going to serve your parish if you're too ill and weak to be of use? Who are you trying to impress?"</p><p>"It's pride, I suppose." The young priest said shyly.</p><p>Curé de Torcy pursed his lips in annoyance and pointed a gnarled finger at Curé de Ambricourt. "To Hell with your pride, you get yourself an appointment with that specialist in Lille. Don't be so foolish."</p><p>The young priest nodded. There was no point in arguing with Curé de Torcy, he would only be wasting his breath.</p><p>Curé de Torcy had a point but the young priest hated doctors and he despised asking for help, even if it was the better option. He had an irrational fear of seeing a doctor, especially since he was afraid that what the doctor would say wouldn't be pleasant news. Something was probably severely wrong with him, terminal even, or it was something that could easily be dealt with and he made himself anxious for no good reason.</p><p>The older man would dismiss his worries. Curé de Torcy meant well but he had a way of making the young priest feel quite stupid or irrational. But he was a far more sensitive man than Curé de Torcy.</p><p>He thought of bringing up Mlle. Seraphita to Curé de Torcy but ultimately decided against it. He was far too embarrassed to admit that a woman around his age had been harassing him. He'd probably get the blame for it anyway so what was the use in mentioning it?</p><p>Maybe the older priest was right, he really was a fool.</p>
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<a name="section0014"><h2>14. An Angel With Broken Wings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: Non-consensual touching, some fondling/molestation. </p><p>The non-con elements start coming to play into the story at this point folks. I'll put further warnings at the beginning of future chapters.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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</p><hr/><p>The sun had finally vanished from the horizon as Seraphita was making her way back from the barn. Her brother and sister had finally settled down long enough for her to call the cattle herd back inside the safety of the barn for the night. A torrential downpour had persisted for most of the day and had slowed down to a gentle trickle well into evening so paths and laneways on her family's property were a quagmire that sucked her booted feet into the soil.</p><p>She carried a paraffin lantern in her hand, praying that she would make it to the cottage without slipping and dropping the lantern. If she shattered the glass in it, her father would be furious and probably beat her for it. Seraphita had been entrusted to look after the entire property and her siblings while her parents were gone and it wouldn't do to have any accidents happen.</p><p>Seraphita glanced over to the road. Now that she was almost to the cottage, she could see the road more clearly and there by the ditch at the end of the laneway lay a crumpled figure. She stopped, squinted her eyes and moved her head about, trying to make sense of what it was that she was seeing.</p><p>She quickly realized that it was a person when she saw a pair of booted feet sticking out of the form and hurried over as fast as she'd dared to. Once she saw the fallen person, Seraphita realized that it was a man dressed in a black long coat and knelt down to try and rouse him. The man groaned and blearily gazed up at her once she coaxed him up onto his knees.</p><p>Seraphita gasped. It was M. le Curé! </p><p>His eyes widened in shock before he managed a lopsided smile. "Seraphita?"</p><p>His cassock was soaked through and the priest had visible tremors as he drew in painful, laboured breaths. There were smears of mud on his face, hands and all along the front of his torso from when he had fallen down. He was a sorry sight and Seraphita's heart clenched to see her angel looking so pitiful.</p><p>"Poor thing! You're going to catch your death if you stay out here," Seraphita brushed wet strands of hair from the priest's face. "Bit o' luck I found you. I was just on my way back to the house when I saw you in the road."</p><p>"I'm getting up." The priest mumbled and staggered up onto his feet and took a few steps before Seraphita harshly grabbed his arm.</p><p>"Don't go walkin' home in this state!"</p><p>"What state?"</p><p>"You bein' sick. Your faced is smeared all over like you'd been eatin' blackberries and you're shakin' too much."</p><p>"I need to go home mademoiselle."</p><p>"An' you'll get home! Just come inside out of rain first. You can't go walkin' around in soggy boots an' clothes for long."</p><p>Too weak and dizzy to argue much, the priest mumbled a faint protest. "Mind you don't get into trouble!"</p><p>"Trouble? I never get into no trouble. Once my dad was raisin' his hand against me and I sez: "If you touch me I'll take Rusty where the bad grass is is, an' she'll swell up an' die." Rusty is our best cow.'" Seraphita internally grimaced as she lied to the priest but she didn't want to dwell on the beatings she'd get from her father and she wanted the priest to shut up so they could get out of the rain.</p><p>"You shouldn't have said that; it's wrong." The priest scolded.</p><p>"I'll tell you what's wrong," She snapped. "It's bein' in a state like what you're in. Now come on."</p><p>'I can explain everything--" The priest began but Seraphita shushed him.</p><p>She guided him up to the cottage. She doused the lantern and ushered him in through the door. The priest clumsily removed his boots and leaned on Seraphita as he took off his frascia and cassock. His clothes underneath his cassock were damp but at least they weren't completely drenched. Her angel swayed on his feet before his knees buckled and he collapsed onto the floor in a dead faint. </p><p>Carrying him to her parents room took time and proved exhausting. For such a thin man, he was much heavier than he looked and it strained her to carry him from the front door to her parent's room upstairs. She gave out a great sigh of relief once she deposited him onto the bed.</p><p>Seraphita rummaged through her father's clothing and found a pair of blue flannel pajamas that her father liked to wear during the winter months. Her father was at least two sizes bigger than the priest but she had to get her beloved into warm clothes. He was already ill as it was.</p><p>It was awkward undressing him as he laid unconscious on the bed. A dark part of her was thrilled at the idea of seeing the priest as he truly was but her conservative upbringing made her blush and cringe as she unbuttoned his shirt and removed it. She tried to dress him in her father's clothes and get him under the bedcovers as quickly as she could so her face would stop feeling so hot.</p><p>She couldn't help but notice how his ribs poked through his skin, how sharp his hipbones were. "Oh my sweet angel, do you not eat?" She whispered as she buttoned up the flannel shirt.</p><p>After Seraphita had changed into her nightgown and left the priest's clothes to dry by the wood stove for the night, she returned to her parents' room to check in on her angelic guest. She gazed longingly at the priest as he laid unconscious in her parents' bed. As she had expected, her father's flannel pajamas dwarfed the priest but it was all she had for him until his clothes dried. She sat down on the edge of the mattress before she grasped one of his cold hands and kissed the knuckles.</p><p>"I was dreamin' o' you only last night. An' you looked so sad, just like what you do now, an' I woke up cryin'." She knew he wouldn't hear her but she liked being able to talk to him regardless. </p><p>Seraphita gingerly got into bed next to the priest and studied his features. Her father's flannel pajama shirt had a modest v-line neck that stopped just under the clavicle but on the priest it revealed a great deal of his collarbones. She reached out and gently traced her fingers over the exposed skin.</p><p>She kissed the priest's temple, then his cheek, before pressing her lips against his like she had in her dream. Only in her dream, he had kissed her back. She sorely wished that is what he would do but he was unconscious and she would have to try again when he was awake.</p><p>Seraphita trailed her hand down the priest's chest, feeling his heartbeat thrumming steadily under his breastbone before slowly traveling down the flat plane of his stomach to his crotch. She curiously prodded his sex through the fabric of his pants before squeezing him.</p><p>The priest made a pained noise and squirmed but remained unconscious. Seraphita quickly let go of him and adjusted the blankets so that they would be up to his chin. She must have hurt him, she had to be more careful to not cause him any unnecessary pain. </p><p>She turned off the lamp and settled into bed. At peace with her angel by her side, Seraphita quickly fell asleep.</p>
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<a name="section0015"><h2>15. No Human Sorrow Lacks Bitterness</h2></a>
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</p><hr/><p>The priest opened his eyes and blinked up at the exposed wooden beams in the ceiling. He nearly fooled himself into thinking that he had somehow made it home last night when he sluggishly turned over on his side and was nose-to-nose with another person. A woman with long brown hair faced him and it took the priest several confused, delirium riddled moments to realize that it was Mlle. Seraphita. </p><p>He immediately sat up and his head exploded with pain. The room tilted and he was forced back down onto the mattress and pillows. He groaned low in agony and covered his face with both hands. Then another realization hit the priest: he was dressed in someone else's nightclothes. They were certainly too big to be his. </p><p>The priest shuddered in revulsion. Mlle. Seraphita had undressed him and presumably put her father's clothes on him. He supposed it couldn't have been helped but the thought that she had seen his naked body and touched him frightened him. He had no way of knowing if she touched him inappropriately. </p><p>"M. le Curé?" </p><p>The priest froze in terror and his breath caught in his throat. He slowly turned his head and saw Mlle. Seraphita's grey eyes fix him in their intense stare. He tried to remember how to breath as he waited for her to continue.</p><p>"How are you feelin'?"</p><p>The priest's throat was dry and he lost the ability to speak. Gooseflesh erupted along his arms as Mlle. Seraphita reached over and laid the back of her hand against his forehead. </p><p>"You're quite warm. I should get you some water to drink, no doubt you're thirsty."</p><p>True to her word, Mlle. Seraphita fetched him a glass of water as well as a glass medicine bottle and a table spoon. She held the glass for him as he greedily downed all of its contents. She smiled at him and kissed his sweaty forehead.</p><p>"Better?"</p><p>"Yes." He coughed.</p><p>"What on earth were you doing out in the road like that?"</p><p>"I was on my way back from Galbat," The priest said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I had gotten a sudden pain in my stomach and became nauseous. I could hardly make sense of where I was going and I passed out. I don't know how I got to the end of your laneway."</p><p>The priest wanted to get up and bolt out of the door, forget his cassock and his bag, he just wanted out of there. His body was far too exhausted to risk it and even if he managed to make a run for it, would he be able to endure until he returned to the presbytery? He doubted it. </p><p>"Where are your parents?"</p><p>"They left for Arras yesterday," Mlle. Seraphita smiled. "They won't be back for a few days."</p><p>"Your siblings?" His body was wracked with another cough.</p><p>"They're off at school. I told them that you had fallen ill an' I had to take you in. They'll leave you alone, don't worry, they're well behaved."</p><p>The priest found Mlle. Seraphita's smile disconcerting, it made him think of Satan when he tricks another soul into sinning. He was trapped with the young woman for who knows how long. Her parents were not home and her brother and sister were far too young and impressionable to question their sister.</p><p>Tears sprang to his eyes and try as he might, he couldn't stop them from coming. Why was he so sensitive and weak? He turned his head away from Seraphita but she had already noticed.</p><p>She cooed at him and wiped them away with her sleeve. "Oh, angel, don't cry."</p><p>"Angel?"</p><p>"That's what you are, aren't you?" Mlle. Seraphita giggled as if he had said something ridiculous.</p><p>"No," The priest shook his head slowly. "I'm just a man."</p><p>Mlle. Seraphita laughed dismissively. "I'm going to give you a spot o' medicine an' let you rest. There's not much you can do besides sleep anyway."</p><p>The medicine tasted horrendous and left a slight burning sensation in his throat and chest but it soon faded. His captor left the room and once she shut the door behind her, the faint click of a lock could be heard. It might as well have been a gunshot for how much the priest jumped at the sound. As if his condition hadn't confined him enough already, being locked in a room certainly rubbed salt into the wound. The priest couldn't stay awake for much longer and he soon faded away into a drugged stupor.</p><p>He woke to someone kissing his cheek and his body instantly became rigid with stress knowing it was Mlle. Seraphita. Why did she insist on touching him so? What else did she plan on doing with him? He silently prayed to God that he would recover quickly and find a way to escape from Mlle. Seraphita's clutches before her parents came back. He didn't want to wait that long.</p><p>"Mademoiselle, I must go home." The priest pleaded.</p><p>"For what? If you were home, you'd still be sick an' unable to keep any of your appointments with anyone in the parish."</p><p>"People will begin to question where I am."</p><p>"Don't worry, I already sent word to the sacristan an' deacons with your sincere apologies for the sudden bother."</p><p>The priest didn't believe her but was too afraid to argue. He wasn't sure if he could test the young woman's patience since he was completely at her mercy.</p><p>Mlle. Seraphita stroked his hair affectionately and the priest instinctively turned his head away from her. Her hand paused in its ministrations and for one fear-inducing moment, the priest thought that Mlle. Seraphita was going to strike him or verbally abuse him. Her hand moved away and he risked a glance back in her direction.</p><p>The young woman's face was difficult to read.</p><p>"Mademoiselle?"</p><p>"Please, just call me Seraphita."</p><p>"Seraphita," The priest said. "You cannot keep me prisoner for long."</p><p>The corner of Seraphita's mouth twitched upward. "I'm not keeping you prisoner, I'm simply looking after you. You're free to go once you're well enough."</p><p>The priest didn't believe that either. Her parents would be back soon but it was likely she would try to hide him away from them. In his state, he could easily be injured and forced to be bedridden for a much a longer period of time. She could also manipulate her brother and sister into helping her hide him in the basement or the barn. </p><p>"Can you get my Rosary for me?" He asked. He sincerely wanted his Rosary but he also wanted an excuse to have Seraphita way from him, even for a minute or two.</p><p>"Where is it?"</p><p>"It should be in one of the pockets in my cassock."</p><p>Once the priest was alone, he stared out the window. If he went missing, he knew the constabulary would eventually be notified but he doubted anyone would bother to look for him out of sincere care for him. They would look for him because he was their parish priest and someone had to offer Mass and give the sacraments. How long would it be before his Aunt Philomène and Uncle Ernest were informed?</p><p>Seraphita returned with his Rosary and the priest gratefully snatched it from her hand. He fiddled with the beads as he often did when he prayed with it. It was a beautiful black Rosary his mother had gotten him upon his ordination. It was the most ornate item he owned and he always kept it close to him. </p><p>"Your clothes are dry but they smell weird so I'll throw them into the wash for you," Seraphita said. "Do you need to use the toilet? There's a chamberpot under the bed."</p><p>The priest sat up. "I can get it."</p><p>Seraphita hesitated then nodded. "Very well. I'll come back to check on you later. Rest well, Angel."</p><p>Once he was left alone and the door locked again, the priest staggered out of bed and knelt on the floor to peer under the bed. Just as Seraphita had said, there was a chamberpot sitting on the floor. The priest had had to use out houses and chamberpots before growing up but he detested the idea of touching someone else's. His bladder left him little choice and he urinated into the pot before gingerly sliding back under the bed with his foot.</p><p>The pants he was given were threatening to slide off of his hips even when he tightened the string around the waist but he hobbled over to the window anyway. He peeked through the curtain and saw the front yard with the laneway leading up the cottage and the road. Climbing out of the second floor windows would be risking serious injury but if the priest was desperate enough he could open the window and drop to the ground.</p><p>The priest burrowed himself under the blankets, feeling a light chill travel down his spine. He rested his hands on his chest, comforting by the presence of the Rosary beads, and stared up at the ceiling. He coughed again and sniffled. He wished he had his diary but Seraphita would probably read it while he was asleep so perhaps it was for the best that he didn't have it on him. He would still like some way to confide his thoughts and emotions though.</p><p>There was nothing else for him to do besides lie around and he was still exhausted so the priest prayed the Rosary until the words ceased to have any meaning as they blended into one another and he was lulled to sleep once more.</p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Oh My Angel, My Sweet Angel</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: sexual assault, forced orgasm</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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</p><hr/><p>Seraphita couldn't believe her luck. Her parents were not due back until the end of the week so she had a few precious days with the priest. Marly and Laurent had been confused as to why their parish priest was in their home but being so young and trusting of their elder sister, they quietly accepted her explanation that he had fallen ill unexpectedly while traveling and had to stay on their farm until he was well again. She impressed upon them that they couldn't tell anyone, not even their close friends at school.</p><p>The priest's condition had worsened and the combination of the flu and the medicine that Seraphita gave him made him drowsy. Only half aware of the things going on around him, the priest was incredibly docile and agreeable though his eyes still carried their usual, mournful look. Seraphita enjoyed doting on him as now she could finally express her adoration for him. Even so, she was worried that he would try to escape.</p><p>Seraphita had gotten her brother and sister up for school, ensuring that they had helped her attend to the animals and had a quick breakfast before she made the walk with them to school. She wasted no time in waving them off once they got there and returned home as fast as she could. Her father still had some old rope in the barn and she cut some from the coil before going back to the cottage.</p><p>She went upstairs to be with her angel and peeked into the room. The priest laid on his back with his Rosary wound around one of his hands, seemingly unaware of his visitor. She slipped into the room and stood next to him so she could examine his face. He looked so peaceful and serene when he was asleep; he reminded her of one of the uncorrupted saints that would be on display in a cathedral. In his sleep, he was unguarded and appeared all the more gentle and innocent. She wanted to keep the priest with her, keep him here on the farm for good.</p><p>Seraphita tied both of the priest's wrists to the bedposts then sat on the edge of the mattress to study her handiwork. She worried that the priest would bruise easily from the rope but if he co-operated than he would be fine. She laid down next to the priest and propped herself up on one elbow and gently stroked his hair. She traced the features of his thin face with her fingers in admiration.</p><p>Her parents, especially her father, had always been keen on keeping Seraphita segregated and ignorant of the village boys, becoming suspicious if she took too much of a liking of any one of them. Their near-sighted scheme to preserve their eldest daughter's virtue and repute only served to make Seraphita more curious and resentful. Time and time again she watched Isabelle, Noemie and the other girls mingle with the boys, envious of their freedom. She couldn't remember a time when she was completely alone with a man who was not a relative without the threat of being discovered. But now her parents and siblings were out of the house and she had the priest to herself for a little while.</p><p>Seraphita found the priest oddly beautiful in his frailty as she touched his eyelids and the bridge of his nose. She ran her fingertips over his chapped lips and wished to kiss them again but she would wait until he was awake for that. She leaned in and kissed him underneath his ear and caught a faint whiff of soap from his hair.</p><p>He truly was an angel sent by God, innocent and alone in this world, absorbing the sins of his parish. Perhaps the priest was too bony, too effeminate, his eyes and expressions too mournful to be considered handsome like M. Olivier but Seraphita cared little about the opinions of others. She thought the priest was lovely regardless of whatever derisive comments Mlle. Chantal and others made about him.</p><p>Seraphita scowled at the thought of Mlle. Chantal. If she thought the priest ugly and of poor character and why did she bother with him so much? That woman never made a lick of sense to Seraphita.</p><p>She shook the thought out of her head and looked down at the sleeping priest. She placed her hand firmly against his breastbone and felt his heartbeat beneath it, felt her hand rise and fall with each breath he took. Seraphita inhaled shakily as a terrible thought crossed her mind. It was a horrible idea but a tempting one that proved to be too much to bear. </p><p>She pulled back the covers and began to tentatively stroke his member through his pants. He flinched at the initial touch then squirmed, his face contorted in confusion. </p><p>His eyes opened slightly as he tried to focus on Seraphita's face, like he couldn't quite place who it was. The priest tried to bring his hands down to his chest and turned his head from side to side, looking at his restrained wrists with bewilderment.</p><p>"Seraphita?" His panicked voice was laced with pain as his illness had robbed him of the ability to speak properly.</p><p>"Shhh." Seraphita said. "Relax. I'm not goin' to hurt you."</p><p>His cock was steadily becoming more erect and Seraphita pulled down his pants enough to free it. She remembered the medical diagrams in her school textbooks and otherwise wouldn't have felt anything beyond mild curiosity but because it was the priest, her angel, the thought that she was  privy to such an intimate part of him thrilled her.</p><p>The priest feebly tried to bring his hands down towards Seraphita again to deter her ministrations only to be stopped by the rope around his wrists. His face twisted into an expression of discomfort and he whimpered pathetically. "Stop."</p><p>Seraphita ignored him. Perhaps she should heed his plea but the way the priest writhed, the small noises he made and the feeling of him in her hand mesmerized her. Had anyone ever touched him so intimately before? How often had he taken himself in hand? </p><p>The priest's breath hitched. "Please stop."</p><p>He vainly struggled to muffle his voice, biting his lip hard enough to break the skin. The priest turned his face away from her with his eyes screwed shut as he involuntarily moved his hips with Seraphita's hand. "Don't....I never....I can't....."</p><p>"Shh, yes you can angel, don't lie to me." Seraphita cooed.</p><p>It wasn't long before the priest's breath quickened, his body tensed and his back arched as he let out a sharp yelp. For a brief moment, Seraphita worried that he might end up soiling his clothes or the bed but his ejaculate ran over her hand and pooled at the base of his cock.</p><p>Seraphita looked at the mess on her hand, unsure of what to think about it. She examined it curiously before she left the room to wash her hands off and fetched a warm cloth to clean the priest with. He was stoic and stared at the ceiling as she cleaned and redressed him.</p><p>She tucked him back into bed and smiled at him fondly before kissing his cheek. He avoided making any eye contact with her and lay rigid on the bed as he breathed heavily. Poor thing must be overwhelmed, Seraphita could sympathize with that. </p><p>"I'll make you some breakfast. I'll be back with some food for you soon." She said. </p><p>He didn't respond.</p><p>Seraphita finally left the priest alone and she could have swore she heard him sniffling as she shut the door. </p>
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<a name="section0017"><h2>17. His Eyes Told of Great Anguish</h2></a>
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</p><hr/><p>The priest could hardly make sense of anything that was going on around him as the hours passed. His flu combined with the medicine that Mlle. Seraphita was giving him left him weak and delirious. He couldn't stay awake no matter how hard he tried and he lay in terror, imagining all the things his captor was likely doing to him when he wasn't conscious. She had already assaulted him while he lay too incapacitated to defend himself, she would likely do it again.</p><p>The priest had lain frozen in shock and revulsion from what had occurred. It wasn't until he heard Seraphita go downstairs did the priest allow himself to breath freely. He gritted his teeth and pulled against his restraints, wishing he was strong enough to break the bed posts. He wanted to scream but couldn't, wanted to cry but couldn't. He knew Seraphita was strange but he never would have suspected she was capable of something so heinous.</p><p>His fingers closed over his Rosary until the beads dug painfully into his skin. He ranted and raved at God, cursing at Him for what had happened, asking what he had done to deserve being treated so poorly. As if his life already hadn't been difficult enough and then his Creator decides to crush him once more. </p><p>No one can know about what Seraphita did. The priest didn't now if he'd be able to save face if anyone found out. People in his parish would certainly think less of him if they didn't already hold him in low regard. Curé de Torcy would certainly lose respect for him as well, this pitiful man who allowed himself to be tainted by a woman in such a fashion. He's a man, he should have been able to fend for himself. </p><p>The dreaded pain in his stomach returned with an intensity that had the priest gritting his teeth. He drew his knees up to his chest and tried to lie in a fetal position as well as he could as the pain became all he could think of. He tried to feebly recite the Rosary, hum a chant, ponder over one of the teachings in the Gospel, anything to distract himself. The pain steadily dulled to a faint throbbing and the priest unclenched his jaw in gratitude. </p><p>His stomach troubles had haunted him for quite some time now. At first he thought it was mere indigestion or some other minor issue that wasn't worth fussing over but it was steadily getting worse. Eating was too much trouble now since his stomach was unable to tolerate much beyond wine with sugar and bread. He knew Seraphita would make him eat something and he would have to try his best to hide whatever discomfort eating a proper meal would bring. He was certain Seraphita would take offense if he didn't eat something she made for him.</p><p>No doubt he stunk badly from how much he had been sweating. Mlle. Seraphita wrinkling her nose at him when she entered the room confirmed his suspicions.</p><p>"I need to give you a bath and change the bedding," Mlle. Seraphita said. "It'll do you no good to lie in soiled sheets and clothes."</p><p>"Where's your brother and sister?" The priest croaked.</p><p>"They're at school."</p><p>She left him alone for a few minutes. </p><p>She returned and helped him out of bed. He hung onto her arm as he shuffled to the bathroom at the end of the hallway. They entered the bathroom where a hot bath, a towel and fresh clothes were waiting. The priest squirmed in discomfort at the idea of Seraphita bathing him. He wasn't a child, he was a grown man who was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. </p><p>"I can clean myself, really." The priest insisted.</p><p>"Nonsense! Let me help you at least. Look at you, you can barely keep your eyes open, let alone move around without assistance."</p><p>The priest had no choice but to relent and let her have her way. He stared ahead as she helped him undress and avoided looking in her direction as he stumbled over to the tub and had to lean on her so he could climb into it.</p><p>She knelt behind him and washed his hair with little incident and the priest had to admit that the sensation of her fingernails messaging his scalp felt wonderful. But he couldn't relax and sat with his shoulders hunched and his knees up to his chest.</p><p>The priest hid his surprise when Mlle. Seraphita handed him a washcloth and soap. She put down the toilet seat and sat on it. She observed him with fondness akin to a mother watching her child. The priest tried to ignore her.</p><p>"I never learned what your name is."</p><p>"You don't know me well enough to have learned it." The priest snapped.</p><p>Seraphita's face hardened and her nostrils flared. "Does Mlle. Louise know it?"</p><p>The priest faltered in his movements, fearing for a moment that she might hurt him. He shouldn't have been so snarky.</p><p>"No. She doesn't know." The priest said softly.</p><p>Seraphita's expression softened and she smiled lovingly. "I'll leave you be for now."</p><p>With Seraphita gone, the priest finished washing up before he leaned back into the tub and tried to enjoy the warmth of the water. He hated the sight of his own naked body, not just for how noticeable his ribs and hipbones were but he was reminded of Seraphita's crime and how his own body had betrayed him. He supposed it was only natural that he reacted the way that he did, but it did nothing to assuage the shame that hounded him. </p><p>He considered sneaking out of the bathroom, getting dressed and climbing out of one of the windows. He would likely break an ankle, a shin bone, his knee caps, <em>something</em> if he botched the landing but it was a risk he was willing to take. This half-formed idea of escape soon lost its appeal as the priest took his sickly state into consideration. Even if he made it out of the house, he would have to make a run for it down the road and he wouldn't have the energy to make it back to safety. </p><p>What if Seraphita caught him trying to leave? He shuddered to think of what she would do, she was unpredictable enough as it was. He prayed that he would recover enough of his strength to leave or that Seraphita's parents would return early. The priest could imagine the scandal that was taking place the longer he was forced to stay at the Dulmouchel's farm. It was bad enough that he passed out on the side of the road during a storm after months of failing health but now his parish was without their priest. </p><p>The water became tepid by the time Seraphita returned to aid him out of the tub and redress him. Once he was tucked back into the freshly made bed, Seraphita brought him beef stew to eat. While it smelled and looked appetizing, the priest dreaded eating it not only because of his stomach but also for fear that Seraphita was trying to drug him.</p><p>Seraphita tilted her head at his curiously. "What is it?"</p><p>"How do I know you're not going to drug me?" The priest said shakily.</p><p>Seraphita had the audacity to looked surprised. "I must say, father, I'm hurt that you'd think I'd do that."</p><p>The priest restrained whatever angry retort he had and instead stared sullenly at his captor. </p><p>"Oh don't give me that look," Seraphita laughed. "Now come on, you need to eat. You're as thin as a rake."</p><p>The priest sat up as well as he could and reluctantly allowed himself to be spoon fed the stew. He had to admit to himself that it was quite good and he forced himself to compliment Seraphita. </p><p>"I'm glad you like it." She beamed at him.</p><p>He couldn't eat the entire bowl but Seraphita was unbothered by this.</p><p>"Do you think you can untie me?" The priest asked softly.</p><p>Seraphita gave him a coy look. "Earn my trust first, angel, then we'll see."</p><p>The priest was left alone after that. He stared up at the ceiling, grimacing as his stomach churned. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed his body to digest what he had eaten. He needed to recover his strength so he could leave and eating would certainly help him in that endeavour.</p><p>It was no use. His stomach tightened painfully and the priest turned over and hung his head over the end of the bed as he retched bloody vomit onto the hardwood floor. He coughed and sputtered before collapsing back onto the mattress exhausted.</p>
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<a name="section0018"><h2>18. A Gleeful Discovery</h2></a>
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</p><hr/><p>The priest's condition was worrying but Seraphita had written it off as a simple flu. After some bedrest and medicine, he would be fine, but the bloody vomit was certainly a worrying development. She considered calling Dr. Delbende but balked against it. She didn't want anyone else around her angel until it was absolutely necessary. </p><p>There had to be some reason for the blood that wasn't so alarming. For now, she would keep watch over him and see what happens. If her poor angel kept vomiting blood than she would have to call the good doctor and send him to the hospital.</p><p>What if the priest was dying? Did he have cancer? Seraphita nearly dropped her pie as she took it out of the oven. Was her angel so tainted, so burdened by sin that his body was finally giving out? She set the pie out to cool and looked out the kitchen window, her hands resting on the worn counter.</p><p>The medicine was certainly helping the priest along in his illness. He still had a persistent cough and a hoarse voice but he was conscious more often and his pale skin returned to slightly healthier-looking pallor. Seraphita considered untying him but was still worried that he would try to make a run for it still. She knew she had to give him up eventually but she still wanted to hang onto the priest for as long as she could.</p><p>She was taking such good care of him, he would come to realize that. Who else would have taken the priest in and nursed him back to health? Those in the Chateau and Mlle. Louise wouldn't. None in the parish would and even if they did, they would do so simply out of begrudging obligation, not out of sincere concern.</p><p>The priest would come to his senses and realize that he really had no one in Ambricourt but Seraphita. </p><p>Seraphita headed upstairs and peeked into her parents' room. The priest was sound asleep as she expected. She walked into the room and admired the priest's face from where she stood near the foot of the bed. She wanted to touch and kiss the priest again but refrained from doing so. She had to exercise better restraint, she already overstepped a serious boundary. </p><p>Seraphita bit her lip. She made her angel cry and he couldn't hide it from her try as he might. She certainly hadn't meant to hurt him, he should realize that. The temptation to repeat the offense was overwhelmingly strong the longer she gazed at her angel and Seraphita crossed herself. </p><p>She quickly left the room and busied herself with sweeping the floors on the main level of the cottage. By the front door, the priest's long coat hung on the hall tree and Seraphita shuffled over to it. She reached out and touched the sleeve tenderly before taking it off the hook and pressing her nose to the collar. On the interior of the coat collar was the faint odour of cologne which was surprising to Seraphita. She was half-expecting incense from Mass or even wine, which the priest was well-known for drinking plenty of, but then realized how silly that was. His vestments in church and maybe even his cassock would have the smell of incense clinging to them but not his coat. And the priest wasn't the sort to hang around in pubs.</p><p>Seraphita rummaged through the pockets out of curiosity and found a worn pocket book filled with addresses, personal notes, and his day-to-day schedule. On the first page was the priest's address and, much to her pleasure, his birth name. </p><p>
  <em>Josselin Monteil.</em>
</p><p>"Josselin." Seraphita whispered his name aloud, relishing every syllable of it. </p><p>She smiled broadly and giggled, irrationally happy over her discovery as she hung the coat back up. The priest had been so secretive about something as simple as his birth name that finding out the truth was a small triumph. Her angel, <em>Josselin</em>, could be clever but he couldn't be cunning like Seraphita.</p><p><em>The angel, Josselin</em>. Perhaps she ought to feign ignorance when talking to Josselin, drop his name in the conversation when he least expected it. The surprise on his face would be well worth it. </p><p>A knock on the door startled Seraphita and she hurriedly tucked the book in one of her skirt pockets and went to answer it. Mme. Rougaeu's kind face beamed at her from the other side of the door.</p><p>Seraphita smiled genuinely this time. "Madame Rougeau, it's good to see you."</p><p>Mme. Rougeau held out a telegram. "I was just in town and picked up this telegram for you. It's from your parents."</p><p>"Thank-you." Seraphita took the telegram and briefly glanced over it before returning her attention to her visitor.</p><p>"Is everythin' alright, dear?" Mme. Rougeau glanced behind Seraphita and the young woman realized that her neighbour was looking at the priest's coat. Seraphita inwardly assured herself that there was nothing to be worried about. </p><p>"Of course. Things have been quiet around here as usual," Seraphita shrugged as casually as she could. "Would you like to come in?"</p><p>"Oh not today Seraphita but thank-you anyway," Mme. Rougeau said. "We have our son and daughter-in-law coming over with a new grandbaby, a girl, for us to meet."</p><p>Mme. Rougeau's joy was contagious and Seraphita couldn't help but smile and nod along as the older woman spoke and flapped her hands around in excitement about her new grandchild. </p><p>The older woman eventually excused herself and Seraphita closed the door behind her and immediately read the telegram. Her parents were due back in Ambricourt by Friday evening, that gave Seraphita two more days with the priest. </p><p>He likely wouldn't be completely well by that time but Seraphita had to get him out of the house somehow. Her parents might be impressed that she had kindly taken the priest in and nursed him back to health but her mother had an intense disdain for Josselin. If anything, they were more likely to be angry that she had allowed someone into the house and had let them stay for several days, regardless of who it was.</p><p>She heard Marly and Laurent running down the stairs and she quickly stepped out of the way as the pair barreled down the hall, clumsily put their shoes on and ran out the door. She would have to make sure the two of them didn't talk; bribing them might work. The two of them have tattled to their parents before but if Seraphita impressed upon them the importance of keeping the priest's presence a secret then she might not have to worry about them as much.</p><p>Would the priest squeal and give word of his stay at her family's homestead? Seraphita decided that it was unlikely. Josselin was already so secretive, so afraid of consequence that he may remain mum about the entire week and take the memory to the grave with him. Who would believe him anyway? It is unlikely that anyone would really have any sympathy; if anything they might accuse the priest of lying, of trying to tarnish Seraphita's reputation. He was her parish priest, rumours of him trying to take advantage of a young woman might start circulating if he ever tried to rat Seraphita out.</p><p>Seraphita smiled at the thought. Josselin would be pushed further away from everyone in the parish and would easily fall back into her clutches again. She just had to play her cards right.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I have a separate fanfic where I already used the name Josselin for the priest so I'll stick to that name in this fic and other fics I may write about the novel in the future.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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